


Impossible

by TehFriendlyXeno



Category: Alien Series, Alien: Isolation (Video Game), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors, Aliens: Colonial Marines (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Androids, Astronomy, Betrayal, Christianity, Colonization, Dancing, Despair, Dirty Dancing, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Growing Old Together, Hive Mind, Horror, Insanity, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Kings & Queens, Love/Hate, Lust, NASA, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Public Humiliation, Romantic Fluff, Rough Sex, Slow Dancing, Slow Romance, Space Flight, Survival, Survival Horror, Torture, Transformation, Travel, Unrequited Love, War, Weyland Industries, Weyland-Yutani, Xenomorphs (Alien)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:25:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehFriendlyXeno/pseuds/TehFriendlyXeno
Summary: Two American space vessels arrive in the Polaris system to begin a colony on an antediluvian world that is supposedly devoid of any wildlife. A young Marine, his dog, & company, are tasked with assisting in this colonization effort & to tame prehistoric alien biomes. He must overcome his fears of the unknown if he is to survive; unknowingly finding love in an alien when he is dying & through that relationship: a different kind of salvation. [Eventual Mhuman/Fxeno pairing. (Slow burn)]





	1. One Small Step for Man, One Giant Leap for Mankind

**Author's Note:**

> Herro! Welcome to my first Aliens Fanfic!  
> Okay first of all, I am pleasantly surprised that all y’all have been reviewing and favoriting/kudusing the teaser! I hope the first chapter to this story will live up to all y’alls expectations. Make sure to spread the word about this story! It really does bring joy to me whenever I get a notification that someone put me on their favorites list/commented something nice/constructive criticism, anything of the sorts.  
> Now just like for my District 9 fanfiction, A Journey of Hope, I have been studying and going through all the movies, comics, and novels (most of the games too; all the latest ones) in order to expand my knowledge of it all (and enjoy it). However, it seems that there are a lot of conflicting events in the Aliens universe that contradict each other, so it’s very confusing at times but I’m making sense of it slowly. Also, I will only write and make references from the series that I know for sure.  
> If any of y’all notice any cannonatical mistakes that I make reference to/majorly include, please correct me in the comments or by private message. So if any of y’all who have extensive knowledge of the Aliens franchise, please PM me.  
> I really hope all y’all will enjoy reading, as I am taking quite a different approach for this story and I have had to rewrite this chapter probably over six times entirely. Now some of you might notice me taking influence and inspiration from other Alien fanfictions and I will give proper credit where it’s due in the afternotes.  
> It is in my best interests, that I will be delving into the Aliens universe in a new standpoint, yet preserving the originality as best I can.  
> Also, a fair warning to those who are looking for the type of fanfiction that has instant or almost instant smut/lemons between Xenos and humans, you’re out of luck. I like to take my time in building up relationships; rest assured, I will eventually reach that point, but only with sufficient character build-up; I hate rushing things. (I promise it will be very eye-opening and arousing) So the goal here is to form an extremely intimate Female Xeno x Male Human relationship, but as realistically as possible, so make sure you stick around to see how it happens and when it happens ;)  
> Now, if you’re new here, make sure you absorb the story’s title and brief summary, chapter’s title and quote, as they are all exceptionally important throughout each chapter.  
> Enjoy.

 

En Route

 

“ _There are things out there that are better left undisturbed and in peace.”_

-W. J. Gambino

  


……./Artificial Intelligence, _Margaret_ coming online……….confirmed.

 

……./Starting up _USS Houston_ ’ _s_ systems…………...confirmed.

 

……./Calculating current trajectory…confirmed.

 

……./Ceasing stasis for all humans and non-humans…………….confirmed.

  


**_Timestamp:_ **

**_Tuesday, September 1st, 2189;_ **

**_00:00 hours,_ **

**_[Gregorian Calendar, Earthen time]_ **

 

**_Location:_ **

**_Polaris System,_ **

**_430 Light years from Earth_ **

 

**_Current destination:_ **

**_Planet ‘Goldilocks’,_ **

**_438,900 miles away; 157 hours until landfall_ **

  


**One** hour ago, two enormously complex human interstellar space- faring ships slipped out of hyperspace together with a brief, brilliant display of white and blue streaks of light, literally tearing through space itself as if lightning was coursing through the affected area. The event was like a pair of flaming baseballs ripping through black fabric, but the cloth repairing itself instantly and seamlessly after the show.

  The two vessels that had exited slipspace, were now ghostly still in the deep, blackness of space, their only company being one another. Absolutely everything was a strange, peaceful quiet around the still starcraft and the _very_ foreign star system they had arrived in.

  Not more than one minute later, both ships sprung to life. Giant rear and side thrusters flared on for roughly two minutes, then abruptly cut off, pushing the giants cruising through space at about four in a half miles per second. Granted, this may seem ridiculously fast, although four in a half miles per second when traversing through space was just a slow, Sunday afternoon drive through the cosmos.

  Out in the far, far distance, was a massive yellow supergiant, _Polaris_ or more commonly known as, _The_ _North Star_ and two neighboring dwarf stars, _Polaris Ab_ and _Polaris B;_ all three were spaced out at a _very_ considerable distance from one other, each displaying an illustrious shine of white, yet all resided together in the same star system. The rays of light emanating from the yellow supergiant lit up the smaller ship, like how the sun beats down upon freshly hardened white concrete on a hot afternoon, nearly blinding you when looking at it for too long.

  This small vessel, was a NASA colony ship, Christened the ‘ _Genesis’._ She held around 2,000 colonists with a security force of 500 Colonial Marines, a fairly new regulation requirement for _all_ colony expeditions. The Genesis’s structural form resembled an over-sized sledge hammer with numerous appendages extending outwards from the ‘handle’ of the ship, making it look more like a ladder, but without any of the side rails. There were many sections of the ship along the main body in between the appendages, that jutted outwards a bit and continuously spun around the base of the ship in a constant circular motion to help produce artificial gravity.

  The other, larger ship however, took on more of a stealthy approach. Unlike the other ship it was flying with, the hull on this particular spacecraft was made up of _the_ most black material you could ever imagine. If you were to simply gaze around into space, you probably wouldn’t even see the huge man-made wonder that was cruising along silently in plain sight. The only give-away that the ship was even there, would be for you to crucially inspect every square inch of the area and then you would _maybe_ notice that a large black mass was blotting out the vast number of stars being hidden behind it. It was so dark, that not even light reflected off of the hull; there was a special type of coating on the metal plating that absorbed whatever light was being cast upon it completely. This created the illusion of staring into a completely black void or a black hole if you will. Even if you were to put an active flashlight up against this curious ship’s plating, (even the windows) the light never would reflect off of it.

  This was the American Navy’s ‘Ship-of-the-line’ and flagship of the 77th Fleet, the _USS Houston_ , _Texas-Class_ , pride of the US Navy. It was a new type of Interstellar-Warship dreadnaught that rivaled every other man-made military vehicle in literally every respect. It could deter controlled enemy projectiles being shot at it, disable radars, take direct hits from nukes, and so much more; this flagship truly was one of man’s most industrious and remarkable works.

  The _Houston_ held 3,000 Native crew members, all of whom were wholeheartedly and intimately dedicated to the well-being of their ship for the past ten years. But in order to keep the Navy boys safe, they have roughly half of the 117th Marine Expeditionary Unit, 1,480 of them. Originally, the entire Expeditionary Unit of 3,000 was to be stationed on the massive spaceship, but there were some heavy complications back in orbit above Earth that caused the _Houston_ to depart with the _Genesis_ very early without taking on the full roster of the 117th. And finally, there were a small amount of families that were allowed to reside onboard, but only because these families had their sons and daughters stationated on the _Houston_. A large reason for civilians on the grand military ship, was again, because of the really bad situation back at Earth.

  The destination of these ships, was laid out directly in front of them, which was a blue and green planet that looked to be the size of a dime from the starships’ current trajectories and a small natural satellite that was hidden on the far-side of the celestial body. And orbiting over the northern hemisphere of the planet, was a large comet soaring unbelievably fast.

 

«§»

 

 “Amicus! Look boy!” A young Marine cooed excitedly with a high pitched tone to his dog while standing before a fairly small porthole that seperated the vacuum of space and the oxygen-rich environment of a viewing compartment located on the foretop of the Houston.

**** Said dog was firmly held in the protective arms of the young adult as he beckoned for his furry companion’s attention to look out the sturdy window. Amicus let out a mildly annoyed ‘groan’ as he roughly shook his head to straighten out his bent ears then moved his small head to rest on his master’s chest, looking up at him through slitted eyes.

  The Marine looked down at his pup from the circular window. This forced a chuckle out of him upon seeing the cute, puppy-face emotions from the young dog, as the canine’s eyes closed with a heavy dreariness. “Yeah I know how you feel too,” he told Amicus with a mellowed out tone. Returning his gaze eagerly to the comet that looked like a miniature bottle rocket flying over the curvature of the planet, he decided that staring at the wondrous object wasn’t enough, and that a closer inspection was warranted on it and the pretty planet below it.

  Feeling a little giddy at observing a foreign Planet up-close for the first time, he turned on his heel and briskly walked to the opposite end of the large sightseeing room to retrieve his personal telescope that he had brought with him on his first tour of duty in the Corps.

  He had brought along his Family’s aged-old relic from the 18th Century. A reflecting, Gregorian telescope, made by James Short of Edinburgh, England. A wondrous contraption back in its day that the young Marine and his family has adored for many years and has been kept up very neatly throughout the centuries and decades, except for the legs and small tripod that was originally built onto it, it was replaced a little over 200 years ago to make the telescope easier to look through while standing up, instead of bending over.

  Once the Marine was standing before it, he lunged halfway down to his left and gingerly lifted the soundly sleeping puppy off his chest and onto a cushioned chair beside the wall.

  Amicus immediately woke up when he felt his master’s hands around his small frame by setting him down onto the chair. He did not agree with the two-leg’s action, so he began struggling to get out of his soft grip, but stopped when he felt his tiny paws make contact with the fabric of the chair beneath him.  

  Collapsing onto himself, he comfortably slid all four of his legs out in different directions, effectively making himself look like a starfish, and then rested his head on the chair’s seat, going back to sleep.

  Chuckling a little, the Marine side-stepped to get in front of the telescope that was attached to three wooden pegs. Crouching and straightening his back as best he could, he folded the tripod’s legs, wrapping his arms around them that were made of mahogany which were reinforced with polished brass. Heaving upwards slightly with a grunt, he let the scope itself lean on his left shoulder, lifting it completely off the ground, then standing upright as he exhaled deeply.

   _Man, I forgot that this thing is_ heavy! He thought with bewilderment as he carefully trudged towards the small window. His steps were audibly much more noticeable and heavy with the additional 150 pounds of brass, glass, mahogany, and other materials which made up the telescope that rested snugly on his shoulder.

  Delicately setting down the telescope in front of the circular window, he unfolded the ridiculously heavy set legs into position in order to gain a completely even and steady field of vision into space.

  He took in a deep breath and exhaled softly to regain his composure as he got behind the telescope and bent down to peer into the eyepiece, his hands resting on his knees. But to the Marine’s annoyance, he had to readjust the main body of the scope to center in on the Planet that looked like an exact copy of Earth. The oceans were more blue, landmasses more green, but no clouds whatsoever...

  Peering down into the lense with the utmost care since the telescope was quite literally ancient, he delicately swiveled it around the curvature of the planet in deep interest and awe.

  After a good two minutes, he was suddenly and temporarily blinded by something that quickly emerged from behind the Planet. He quickly looked away while blinking rapidly, taking off his bifocals in surprised aggravation, scowling to himself, “Ow! The heck was that?”

  The young man quickly regained his sight with the exception of a slim black ‘splotch’ flashing in his vision every time he blinked. He tried to look through the porthole once his vision was fully restored and after he had put back on his old-fashioned glasses on the bridge of his nose but had to look away again and cover his eyes when the same, luminous object slowly moved from behind the Planet as it began casting intense light through the ten existing portholes of the viewing chamber into the pressurized cabin, making everything that was caught in the light appear a solid, incredulous white marble.

  This unexpected event was short-lived to only five seconds however, when the portholes’ slightly modified highly-pressurized quarts glass, commenced with heavily tinting out autonomously, so as to block out the impeding light from the small celestial object that continued its course from behind the planet that was thankfully, a safe distance away; it looked to be only a hundred or so miles behind Goldilocks and looked to only be a quarter of the size of the Planet.

  He stood in between two of the small windows that were effectively keeping out the magnificent, yet disorienting radiance that beamed into the vessel’s viewing room. The marine kept his eyes closed until the same dark spot that imprinted itself on his vision dissipated, then cautiously huddled down and squinted out the porthole that was mainly occupied by his telescope.

  The young soldier gasped in realization at what the looming object was that had insinuated completely from behind the Planet. It revealed itself in its full sparkling glory of an almost perfect, spherical _moon_. It was orbiting the planet that was most certainly not made of the same stuff as of Earth’s.

  He stood there dumbfounded with utter amazement at the spherical object. The young adult stood there for a good two minutes drinking in the sight at the small object before realizing he could use his telescope to get a closer look without being harshly blinded again. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, he swiftly got into position, closing his right eye, then looked down the eyepiece with his left once more.

  Delicately, he turned the scope’s body, using the eyepiece to scout for the unusual shining moon to the left of the main celestial body.

  The Marine only got a glimpse of the superficial orbiting natural satellite, only to have his diligent concentration on the beautiful sphere ripped away when the airlock door behind him, right beside Amicus’ sleeping form, opened with a brief and an whooshing hiss that made the air feel like it was all rushing towards the disturbance in the pressurized-atmosphere.

  Amicus visibly jerked awake at the sound and strained to get up on his legs; which wouldn’t be surprising since he wasn’t past two months old. Once on his clumsy paws, he tilted his miniature head at the sound and the large six-ton door swung outwards, towards the chair the young dog occupied with a frighteningly quick velocity.

  The young man who was so interwoven with seeking out the details of the Planet’s moon, didn’t have time to fully look away from his enhanced spyglass before three other Colonial Marines practically burst forth through the airlock. The heavy-set door hit the chair on which his puppy stood on and the dog quickly leapt off onto the cold floor and bounded over towards his master.

  “Oh! I’m sorry little puppy! Come here, I’m sorry!” Said the leading one, getting down into a crouch, sliding up his pant legs to accommodate his change of posture and walked towards Amicus with his hands outstretched. A large grin was planted on his oblivious face while the Marine on the opposite side of the compartment was fuming at this almost-accidental event.

  Once the newcomer crouch-walked about a meter, he noticed the young man glaring down at him with his hands at his side and the same puppy he was trying to coax into coming to him to accept his apology, hiding behind the same man’s leg.

  There was a brief awkward silence between the two as they looked at each other with completely different expressions on their faces. The lead Marine had on one of awkwardness with his mouth forming a word but was stopped with it shaped in an ‘o’ shape, and the young Marine’s features were mildly contorted with anger, his eyebrows, forehead, and eyes furrowing to support the irritation on his face; but the stranger seemed to not pay any heed to the obvious rigid stature of the Marine, as he got up from his unpleasant display, but still had his arms and hands splayed out in front of him, this time, gesturing towards the young adult in a overly-friendly way.

  “Lance-Corporal Hicks! How’s my boy doin’?!” The overbearing man laughed with full merriness and a heavy New York accent, “What are you doin’ up here?” Upon finishing his dumb question for the Marine, who’s last name was Hicks, son of the late Corporal _Dwayne_ Hicks, who was listed as KIA ten years ago on Fiorina 161, the uncomfortably friendly New Yorker embraced the still seething young man, holding nothing back as if he were hugging his best friend.

  Before Hicks could say anything to express his discontent of being nearly crushed to death by the well-muscled soldier and the fact that he did _not_ like this higher-ranking Marine due to some problems in the recent past, he remembered the strict orders from the Captain to him and everyone else in their small Company of twenty-five

before coming aboard the _Houston_ , the US Naval Dreadnought Warship that they are currently stationed on; the orders were, as the Captain put it, “Everyone here will maintain a professional relationship with each other, the Navy boys, fellow Marines, and the colonists...I don’t feel like dealing with any of your bullshit for this deployment...and don’t even _think_ about...”

  He almost sighed with aggravation at remembering that order being issued.

His company was _the_ most infamous for holding a record high amount of court martials for fighting _anyone_ out of any other Company in the Colonial Marine Corps. (The Captain and himself have never received one, so they were the good cookies out of the bunch) However, this infamy borne of their company, gave him and the Captain, the bad end of many glares when walking about. All these men (again, excluding Lance-Corporal Hicks and the Captain) were former death-row inmates from _the_ most infamous maximum security prison known to man: _Grigory Prison_ ; located on the far-away dwarf-planet of Pluto back in the Solar System.

  It was no secret to anyone serving with the Marines, that the Corps has lowered their recruiting standards ever since the Weyland-Yutani Corporation attacked the _USS Sephora_ back in 79’. The United States and her allies have since then, declared War on the Corporation. In turn, the Company ceased selling to them all and have built up their own ‘legitimate’ military with numerous private military contractors from across the known universe to bring down America and her allies. This War has been going on for ten years and both sides have been forced to go all in with their resources, manpower, and Military forces. This includes going to desperate measures, and drafting not only civilians, but convicts too. Many prisoners were more than ecstatic about enlisting because once they served ten years and got honorably discharged, their criminal history would be wiped clean.

  However, the 23 men in Hicks’ Company were _detainees_ . These... _men_ ...if they could even be called that, were the scum of Humanity; all of them have committed unspeakable acts against other men and women before their detainment and they _would_ pay the price. The reason for the title of ‘detainee’ means that they don’t have any Constitutional Rights as normal prisoners do, in American prisons and jails at least, so the promise of having their slates wiped clean by the US Government would not be delivered to them.

  So when the war started, the Marines were in desperate need (still are) to have the most ruthless and tough sons of bitches Humanity could offer. Upon hearing about these detainees, the Corps couldn’t pass up the opportunity. The Marines drafted _every single_ inmate from Grigory Prison, which numbered to be 4,567, and only 23 of them were now left after ten long years of constant warfare. The Colonial Administration always sent these detainees to the worst parts of the war and they _all_ got slaughtered in less than a _month_ at the start of it.

  But these 23 have remained together for the entire duration of this horrible conflict, which wasn’t a mystery to those in close contact with them. The _only_ reason for their well-being and ability to pull through relatively unscathed from every deployment stretching across a decade, was because of their commanding officer, the Captain, that Hicks has now found himself in for some reason towards the latter of those ten years. The young soldier could not have fit in anymore in this Company’s company.

  When the New Yorker finally detached himself away from the Marine, Hicks did his best to force a smile but only achieved a weird smirk, which he was thoroughly self-conscious about but observed that the New Yorker didn’t seem to take notice thankfully. Hicks never was any good at covering his emotions.

  “Try _not_ to do that again”, Hicks said as firmly as he could muster, hoping that the dude would just listen unlike their many unpleasant previous encounters.

  Artur laughed, “Whatever Hicks.”, he looked down at the young pup who vaguely hid behind Hicks’ pant leg during the whole awkward ordeal between his master and this stranger with a funny accent. Amicus’ floppy ears were perked and his large, silver eyes seemed to shine with curiosity, tilting his head when Artur spoke to him again and got down on his knees, putting out his hands to make a, ‘Come me to’ gesture, “Come here little puppy! Corporal Artur isn’t goin’ to bite you,” the buoyant New Yorker laughed again as Amicus growled as threateningly as he could, for he could now sense his master’s distress at this other person.

  The other two Marines, Privates Morris and Dante, seemed to take notice of Hicks’ discomfort early on when they practically ruptured through the heavy door with Artur. They stepped back through the airlock and did not follow their compatriot through it again and just awkwardly stood there, watching the whole thing, not too sure if they should intervene. They knew that this new Marine was a close friend to the Captain and they had long-since learned their lessons of displeasing their CO. (Commanding Officer)

  Hicks looked down when he heard his puppy growling and took a step towards Artur in defiance; he was a little more confident with the presence of Amicus, even if the small dog wouldn’t be able to help at all with any possible confrontations.

  “What kind of dog is he?” The question came from the New Yorker who stood up, unphased by puppy’s small growl and the Lance-Corporal’s apparent ‘squaring-up’.

 Hicks was determined to obey his Captain’s order the other day, so he just had to play it safe and take whatever verbal instigations came from Artur until it was absolutely necessary to fight. And he _hated_ fighting, he got way too shaky and always breathed heavily before it, along with those other annoyances experienced before getting physically confrontational with someone who could deck you. so he did his best to stay under the radar and stay away from the guys in his Company since they all fought each other for no apparent reason and when the Captain was not present. Whether it was out of discord or boredom, he never knew; he’d have to ask the Captain that question since he knows these detainees better than himself.

  “He’s an Australian Shepherd Corporal,” Hicks said plainly with no emotion behind his statement.

  The Lance-Corporal was surprised with his own words; how he was able to speak without any fear seeping through his tone. He guessed again, that Artur did not pick up on any loose ends that Hicks unknowingly flutter around concerning how he was handling the situation.

  The bigger Marine grinned a little more, almost sinisterly, “Can I hold him?” The question caught the young man off-guard, but he got a hold of himself quickly and shook his head while stating firmly but being mindful of his tone, “No you may not.”

  Hicks _was_ speaking to a higher-ranking Marine after all, but those with rank could only push the boundaries of their authorities so far.

  The Lance-Corporal tried to refrain from swallowing a lump that was forming in his throat, but was desperate to do so. He began cursing his body’s natural reflexes that perceive and act upon fear. But he needed to take a breathe; release the intake of air he was unintentionally holding in order to take a fresh batch of air. He really didn’t want to since Artur was looking at his face directly. It made his knees wobbly and nauseous. He hated being fearful and did his best to overcome it whenever he foresaw a brawl he would be involved in, but it always slipped into him, especially with Artur in particular. Hicks finally swallowed the lump in his throat, regretting doing so instantly.

  The New Yorker obviously did not expect that answer and saw the smaller Marine before him swallow. This further demonstrated that Hicks wasn’t someone he couldn’t handle. And with that, he smiled even wider.

  Stiffening his right hand into a fist that hung by his side, he prepared to make a quick jab to the Lance-Corporal’s face for even having the _audacity_ to deny his request.

  As soon as Artur brought his fist up to deliver the strike, there came a loud yell behind him, making him freeze in his trance and looked behind himself on a whim.

  The source of the shout, was the Captain, Captain Standish, the British Commanding Officer of the Company, Alpha Company. The Captain was currently power-walking towards him with a clearly pissed-off stride. His back was 90 degrees straight, his arms linear and locked with clenched fists, and his facial features buckling around his mouth, eyes, and forehead creased with clear impatience. For when you saw Standish fuming towards you with purpose, it would be in your best interest to simply stand fast and embrace whatever he had coming for you; attempting an escape would only worsen things. This fact was the Gospel-truth amongst everyone in Alpha Company.

  “Stow that bullshit _NOW_ Corporal! Get your arse over to me at attention!” The Corporal did not move a muscle and simply looked back at him with cocky smile.

  Out of the 23, this Artur figure was the only one who did not respect and honor the Captain’s demands all the time. This detainee was probably the worst one out of the original 4,567 who got drafted all those years ago. Hicks could bet his monthly salary that he hasn’t gotten yet on that possible fact.

  Artur kept up his smile until the Captain stormed up to him and hurtled a straight-forward punch to the Corporal’s face without hesitation, which made a brief _crack_ noise. Standish wasted no time in grabbing the thin white cotton shirt that Artur wore into a tight knot with the same fist and yanked the insubordinate towards himself, hard. This action forced Artur to stumble backwards, twisting his body around to face Standish, and somewhat allowed himself to be manhandled by his superior.

  The Officer released his hold on the man’s shirt, leaving a wrinkled mess from his tight grip, and brought it to the back of Artur’s neck, compelling him to lean his head down so his ear was right next to Standish’s mouth. He whispered firmly into the tall Corporal’s ear canal, “Now you listen to me you worthless sack of shit...”, he told him forcibly as he pulled Artur along with him across the room from Hicks and back through the airlock. Standish brought up his free hand to put it in front of the troublemaker’s face. Tucking in three of his fingers and forming a small ‘c’ that his thumb and index finger almost touched, he wrenched the NCO (Non-Commissioned Officer) closer to himself, causing him to groan painfully. “You are _this_ close to earning yourself your _last_ court-martial…” Standish pulled him closer to get his message over for more emphasis, “I don’t want to catch you anywhere near Lance-Corporal Hicks, or his dog unless I say otherwise...understood?”

  By this time, they had just trudged quickly past the two privates, who were still standing there at the entryway, completely dumbfounded that their colleague was getting reprimanded before them, lest being _punched_ square in the face. The Captain pulled back on Artur’s neck, stopping their advance abruptly. “You’ve got five seconds, and I mean five God-damn fucking seconds, to tell me, that you understand...consider that an order Corporal!” By the end of his tirade, he had raised his voice significantly enough to make anyone’s ears within a one-hundred yard span begin to ring from his booming voice.

_He’d make a hell of a Drill Instructor_ , Hicks thought to himself from his stand-still position after wincing from Standish’s voice that echoed loudly throughout the large white room. Amicus also not only ‘winced’ but brought his two small paws over his ears in attempt to drown out the CO’s thunderous voice and whined.

  “Yes, _Captain_ ,” the New Yorker growled after getting over the initial shock of being rebuked by his Commanding Officer, which was just shy of five seconds.

  The ranking officer released the insubordinate Marine from his grip then got up behind him and roughly shoved Artur down the wide hall. “Now get back to your quarters and get into your dress-blues! General Adams wants to personally conduct morning formation to address _all_ of us, MOVE IT!” And with that, the troublesome Corporal was high-tailing it down the hall, giving Captain Standish a curt nod of acknowledgement with a look of knowing hatred in his eyes when doing so.

  Unphased, Standish spun around and made haste past the two bystander privates, both of whom had on shocked expressions. They have never seen their Captain straight-up, _throttle_ the most unpleasant man on the ship.

  When he stepped through the six-ton door, he stopped and turned to face the two frustratedly, splaying out his hands at them. “What the bloody hell are you two doing?!” And with that sudden outburst, they both sprinted down and out of sight through the brightly lit square hallway.

  “The both of you are in the same lot as that other fool! Move faster you slow fuckers!” The Englishman stared down the privates’ retreating forms until he couldn’t see them anymore. And with this, he cracked his knuckles and turned around to steadily walk to Hicks, who hadn’t moved an inch during the whole show.

  Stopping on his left foot in front of Hicks like every other well statured officer of the Corps would do, he and the young man just stared at each other with blank expressions on their faces for a few seconds. That was until smiles slowly grew on each of them to which they both laughed heartily and shook hands firmly, but the young Lance-Corporal had to juggle Amicus in his arms to accommodate the friendly greeting.

  “You alright mate?” Standish asked him while stepping back to give Hicks some personal space. He knew that his friend here was the timid type who didn’t particularly enjoy too much close contact with people. The young Marine grinned sheepishly while falling back onto the pristinely shiny grey wall to relax on it while he cleared his throat in repliance, “Yeah...thanks…”. Standish’s grin doubled as the two maintained awkward eye contact; well, awkward for Hicks.

  Hicks’ Commanding Officer suddenly brought up his hand and roughly slapped the younger Marine’s shoulder and then shook him with good humor, “Loosen up _Wally_ , it’s almost game time. And once you _finally_ experience your first drop, you’ll be able to tell Beretta back on Earth _allllll_ about it.” The lance-corporal laughed sarcastically from the friendly gesture done to him by his friend, but was still kind of tense and shaky from Artur’s actions. But that name Standish said, instantly brought back some good memories back on Earth.

   _Beretta...damn I already miss her._

  He absentmindedly went to the memory of him holding her, his girlfriend, in an intimate embrace while kissing her deeply, but had stopped abruptly when Standish told him to hurry up because he was about to get on a space elevator to ride up to the ship that would take him to his first duty station.

  Standish raised an eyebrow at seeing his younger friend begin blushing who had suddenly found that the floor was suddenly more interesting than anything else, so he pressed on curiously, “Ahhhhh! You dirty wanka! When were you going to tell me that she was your pet?” Hicks’ tension was easing away from the latest encounter with Artur, so he was starting to relax, but remained a little sheepish when discussing his love interest. “Well, it...kinda happened on the spot...it’s difficult to explain.”

  Wally was Hicks’ first name that only those who were closest to him knew about, and of course the Corps. He quickly began to wonder if Artur knew his first name too. He shuddered at the possibility.

  “Don’t worry about him Yank...I’ll be sure to keep him off your back...the best I can!”, Standish beamed with the same big grin that Hicks has become accustomed to over the years. Hicks turned his head to the left slightly and perked his mouth open to faintly chuckle at the nickname he got addressed by the Captain on occasion. Sometimes he pondered if his best friend here could read his mind, but brushed it off because he practically raised him. His dad, Dwayne Hicks, often paid Standish to babysit Wally whenever he was on deployment or wasn’t home. Dwayne’s Wife, Wally’s mother, was killed on her first mission back in active duty after a thirteen week maternity leave period when Wally was born, so she was not able to care for him in his later years. Dwayne also never came back home after his latest deployment nearly ten years ago, and then Standish commissioned into the Colonial Marines as a 2nd Lieutenant. Although, it was a little awkward to say the least, that Standish was Wally’s commanding officer now.

  The Captain turned his gaze away from Hicks and out the porthole that was occupied by the ancient brass telescope. Walking over and leaning down to inspect the planet and her glistening moon, Standish just stood there for a good long while; allowing an awkward silence to befall themselves.

  “What do you think?” The question caught Hicks by surprise, so he turned around and looked out the same porthole Standish was, being careful not to bump into his telescope. Hicks cleared his throat and licked his lips before replying, “I don’t know...it just seems so...um...what’s the word…” Standish glanced to his left to look at him who was looking at the planet still, then looked back it. “Stunning?” Standish asked aloud. “No…..what’s the word to describe something that is beautiful...yet dangerous?”

  Hicks’ friend shrugged his shoulders while still keeping his eyes glued to Goldilocks in the distance, the planet that they were enroute to, “Shit...well I don’t know mate...ask _Margaret_ about it.”

  Almost instantly, the _Houston’s_ Artificial Intelligence, _Margaret_ , came online from the viewing room speakers in the ceiling and made herself known in an unmistakably feminine tone that would only belong to a Southern Belle, an elderly one at that, “Ask me about what, Captain Elliot Charles Standish?”

  At the mention of his full name and rank, he rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to ask the question, but before he could, he was quickly cut off by her in that harsh and critical tone that would make you believe that a legitimate aged Southern woman was in the room scolding you, “I’ll have you know Captain Standish, that you will give me the utmost respect while speaking to me.”

  Standish hesitated before answering her, “Yes ma’am...it won’t happen again,” he replied leisurely and doing his best to copy the cool Southern tone.

  He and the ship’s AI did _not_ get along too well; she demands absolute respect from _everyone_ she talks to and Standish doesn’t really give two-cents of her, or anyone’s moral standards, so the two butted heads a lot. On the other hand, Hicks _was_ a bit of a kiss-ass when it came to authority, so Margaret never got onto the Lance-Corporal about anything.

  There were a full ten seconds of silence before Margaret said anything, which was equivalent to ten minutes or even hours to a new Generation Smart AI (Artificial Intelligence) like herself, but she was a heavily personalized one, built to be as humane as possible when speaking. “Well Captain? What is the question? I don’t have all of eternity,” she told him sternly. Standish turned on his heel and walked forward towards the speaker in the room slowly while Hicks went to go put the fallen chair from the earlier commotion upright to place Amicus on it so he could move around more freely. “Actually, it’s my friend here who has the question,” was Standish’s statement, being reluctantly mindful of how he carried out his choice of words this time.

  As soon as Standish finished the sentence, Hicks was already walking back to his telescope to look through it and back at the moon and its planet, but halted when Margaret addressed him, “Lance-Corporal Wally Henderson Hicks? What is the question young man?” Her tone was amusingly more kind and gentler towards him rather than his CO. “Aye ma’am...I wanted to ask…”, he thought to himself for a little bit, trying to remember what he asked Standish about a minute ago. “I wanted to ask, ‘what’s the word to describe something that is beautiful, yet dangerous?’”

  Two seconds of silence followed his question until she answered him with that same benevolent tone, “ _Tantalizing_ would be the word that has the closest definition to what you provided me with Lance-Corporal Hicks, now may I ask you a question?”

  This got the full attention of both men in the room. “Of course ma’am,” Hicks asked with peaked interest.

  This was highly unusual behavior from an AI since they were practically only there to _answer_ questions not ask them; but Margaret _was_ different, the first of her kind. One of her core functions was to keep those company who prefer to keep to themselves, much like Hicks, who felt pretty comfortable when talking to her. “What were you trying to describe?”, was her simple question.

  Hicks laughed a little as he gestured out the small circular window towards the small planet looming in the far-off distance, “I was figuring out a word to describe that planet.”

  His statement went unanswered for a good eight seconds before she answered diligently with, “Concerning from the visuals and the available data to me of the planet Goldilocks, I wholeheartedly do think this peculiar celestial body is _tantalizing_.” Standish cracked his knuckles and made his way back to observe the planet as if to confirm his friend’s and the AI’s opinions of Goldilocks.

  As the CO peered out the window, Hicks and Margaret talked and talked about the rather shiny planet.

  “...on the beauty side of the world, it is an almost exact replica of Earth, such as vegetation, oceans, canyons, trees, etcetera...although surprisingly, there are not many differences when comparing the planet and Earth in terms of appearances and substances…” The AI trailed off briefly then asked Hicks, “Would you like for me to continue Lance-Corporal?” She asked him in the same kind-Elderly tone. “Yes please,” he replied inquisitively.

  “Please take note, that there are simply too many differences to name off in such a short period of time at the moment, you must understand, but the major differences would have to be that all the natural phenomena and many others, are much more intense and form more quickly than those of Earth’s...yet the sights are also much more beautiful than those of our former home in my opinion; however, the most curious detail…” Hicks absentmindedly walked over to his telescope to look through the eyepiece, shifting the telescope to gaze intently at the planet while listening intently to the shipboard-AI. He brought up both of his hands to adjust the different knobs on the focus tube, zooming in on the planet of Goldilocks to the max settings, which surprisingly allowed him to actually see the grandeur details of it.

  What was so ‘tantalizing’ about the planet, was the fact that there was a colossal blue ocean that surrounded two enormous Continents that almost joined together, yet were separated by a large channel of water and there were absolutely no clouds to be seen, which was really odd. As Wally continued surveying the finer details of the planet, Margaret continued to ramble on about literally every single detail of Goldilocks that was available on board.

  Apparently NASA had been sending hyper-advanced probes and rovers to this place secretly for the past twenty years to make sure that it was truly hospitable to humans and that there were no hostile aliens or derelict ships. Hicks asked about why there were no clouds, and the reason for that, had something to do with Goldilocks’ neighbors in this star system, those being the moon itself, the comet that always orbited the planet closer than the moon, and the two dwarf stars relatively nearby. But in reality? NASA had no plausible clue as to the exact reason why Goldilocks did not generate clouds, but could support plenty of plant-life. It was all very confusing. So they were hoping that the scientists they sent aboard the _Genesis_ would be able to find out exactly why there were no clouds.

  The planet as a whole, was completely safe for humans - and Arcturians alike - to breathe and live on, but the question of hostile aliens went unanswered during those two decades of research and study. In fact, there were no animals that the rovers picked up or recorded; only numerous different types of vegetation and very extensive plains that acted the same as some of those on Earth’s on a basic level.

  That thought sparked a question within him that he _must_ have answered right away. Clearing his throat, he politely butted in on what she was explaining about the extreme weather patterns that they would be experiencing down there, “Miss Margaret?” “Yes dear?” She replied in a mildly annoyed, yet understanding tone. Hicks continued with, “Is there any intelligent Life down there?...You know...like us humans?...Or was there?”

  This question apparently caught the Captain’s interest as he turned around and leaned against the bulkhead looking at Hicks with a peculiar look then at the speaker that dotted the top of the shiny grey room, anticipating her answer. Truth be told, he was also interested in the possibility...and nervous.

  “I’m sorry, but I cannot answer that question, but I highly doubt it...as I have already stated, NASA has been sending down rovers and satellites for the past twenty years to study this planet. There are not the slightest trace of _any_ animals or life forms that would be similar to humans Lance-Corporal Hicks; this place is simply another Earth, but without any wildlife.”

  “Well that’s...boring,” Hicks replied to her, a sudden wash of disappointment flowing over him. He was hoping to encounter _some_ form of extraterrestrial among his travels on his first tour of duty, even if he had to settle for alien wildlife, he’d be content with it. Life on Earth was _excruciatingly_ dull, and the thought of someday meeting an Intelligent Alien sent shivers down his spine in excitement and curiosity.

  Standish butted in on the conversation with clear sarcasm in his first statement, “ _Apologies miss_ , but I must inquire that this planet is where we will be making landfall and that Weyland-Yutani does _not_ know of this?”,  he gestured out a porthole, towards the planet, “And our location?”

  Surprisingly, she did not reprimand the officer for butting in on the conversation she was having with the Lance-Corporal. “I do believe General Adams or Fleet Admiral Jones will cover all of that this morning Captain Standish, as answering that question would be overstepping my boundaries,” she told him in that same stern tone.

  Before Standish could press his question more on her, he looked down at his wrist which sported a top-tier military-grade ‘eye watch.’ A wristwatch that, when prompted by simply looking at it for three seconds intently, will light up to display the exact time, date, and even a compass. (which was immobile while traversing in space) Noticing the time, which displayed out 05:50 with a soft, typical Military green glow, he briskly leaned off the bulkhead and sprinted out the fairly large viewing compartment and through the airlock while shouting to a surprised Hicks behind him, “We have _ten_ fuckin’ minutes to get our arses dressed an’ reported to the General for morning inspection! See you at the formation Yank!” And with that he had already disappeared down the long corridor.

  Hicks wasted no time in twisting to his side and fastening his telescope to fold it up to put onto his shoulder. With it weighing heavily on it like a log, he turned around and started towards the open six-ton airlock door while whistling to Amicus in nine separate but quick continuous notes. He also said his goodbyes to the A.I., which she returned in kind before closing herself out to focus on somewhere else of the _Houston_.

  Upon hearing that specific callsign designated for Amicus, the puppy heaved himself up with great effort and leapt off the chair, following his master from a distance of roughly two yards, being cautious of the large object that was making his master grunt with every other step through the airlock and down the hall.

  It was a good hundred yard trek from the viewing compartment to his quarters, so the nine in a half minutes he now had, didn’t help the extreme caution he had to take so that he didn’t damage his telescope.

  The hallways were that of the very latest of Military trends and material. For the walls, floors, ceilings, airlocks, and just about everything that was a part of the interior and exterior heavy plating of the Houston was made of a complicated man-made metal called ‘ _Mors indissolubili sociavit_ ,’ which literally translates into ‘ _Unbreakable Steel_ ’ in Latin. This brightly polished and abundantly heavy silver metal was made and owned by and only for the United States Military and is three times heavier than that of lead.

  Hicks walked through the open door into his quarters, well, one of the very few guest quarters on the _Houston_ , that he shared with Standish’s family of three, plus himself. All of them, were still sound asleep in their beds except for the Captain who just finished putting on his own Officer’s dress blues and almost ran into Hicks’ heavily burdened form and nearly tripped over Amicus once out the door.

 Standish spun around and whispered sharply to him while walking backwards, “Hicks! We’ve less than eight minutes to be on the parade deck! _Move_ your arse and close the door!” The British Captain twisted around and began to sprint down the annoyingly brightly lit corridor that spilled a bit too much of the hallway’s light into the room, threatening to wake up the occupants within.

  Heeding to his CO’s command, he strained his neck and back to look behind him to beckon his dog into the sleepy room with a few brief whistles, being mindful as to not step on him. As he closed the short distance to the small control panel, he crouched carefully towards it, shifting the weight of the cumbersome telescope from his shoulder to his neck. He took into consideration, that the whole instrument weighed a good 150  pounds and he was quickly regretting trying to balance it on his not-so strong neck when reaching for the panel with one hand while the other desperately held onto the telescope.

  Hicks’ index finger was just a whisker’s length away from pressing the button that would shut the door but failed miserably when the weight of the telescope overwhelmed and forced him to the ground. He gasped unintentionally when he lost control and quickly dispatched his hand that was attempting to press the button to brace his fall. When his open palm landed on the cold floor in a sort-of ‘side plank’ position, a painful contraction shot up through his palm and commenced with sending sharp throbbing pains through the base of his hand, earning himself another inadverted gasp.

  The sound of Hicks’ would-be fatal accident resounded throughout the fairly large sleeping area and unbeknownst to Hicks, it roused up Standish’s sister, Eva, in a start. Amicus came to his master’s aide in a clumsy ‘prancing’ fashion, then proceeded to whine and rapidly lick the Lance-Corporal’s hand. This actually warded off some of the pain, which Hicks was grateful for. He smiled at his loyal companion despite the pain still present making him wince with each throb, he slowly heaved off the telescope from his neck and leaned it on its side and onto the floor delicately.

  By then, he knew he was going to be late for morning formation and that meant only thing: he was _fucked_.

   _Mind as well not be anymore late than I already am_ , he thought glumily to himself as he reluctantly strided to his assigned bed. Amicus suddenly ran past him and jumped onto it, completely ruining the impossibly tight and laboriously made sheets that were made by Hicks when he and everyone else went to find their quarters when everybody exited cryosleep.

  “ _Amicus_!” Hicks whispered through clenched teeth with annoyance while getting onto his knees to withdraw his large trunk from underneath the cot, “I hope you know how much effort I put into making my bed every morning you little runt!” This seemed to have the desired effect Hicks intended, but he felt bad afterwards when he saw the puppy hang his head low and started for the edge of the bed.

  Hicks now had his box on his lap and was opening it when he heard Standish’s sister speak up from behind him in a hushed and firm tone, “I want to talk with you today about some things.”

  The Lance-Corporal stiffened abruptly and nearly dropped his suitcase but quickly recomposed himself by leaning forward on his knees and slowly slid the trunk onto the floor, being careful to not make any noise and not look at her. Amicus jumped down onto the floor where Hicks’ homespun mat was positioned to drive off the coldness of the metal floor and slid onto his belly, splaying himself out like a star.

  “I have nothing to say to you Eva,” he said sharply, but quietly, not wishing to wake up her sleeping relatives and have _them_ join the argument - God forbid. This reminded him to close the door and went over to do so, Eva following him with crossed arms while staring intently at him.

  Walking up to the control panel, Hicks pushed the white button rather hard after his mind wandered back to his early life with Eva, the young woman who he had thought he would be with forever. (way before Baretta)

  The two have had shared a long and deeply rooted history with each other ever since they were born. They were birthed on the same day and place, grew up together and never left each other when things got rough, _ever_ ; if one of them got in trouble, the other made sure to stay by the others’ side through whatever the punishment was. Their friendship was one of loyalty and commitment, it was to be everlasting. But one day, innocence was lost between the two and they became one wholeheartedly, it was one of the best and happiest days of their lives and the days and many months after that were even more amazing. However, further along the way of their intimate relationship when Hicks joined the service, Eva failed Wally by committing adultery with _two_ other men that he thought were men of honor and his friends back home. Hicks swore that he would murder them if he saw them again and would never forgive Eva of truly breaking not only his heart but his very reason of existence; he legitimately did not know how to live without her since almost everyday was spent with her from day one, but he was lucky to have her brother, Standish, and his other lifelong friend Baretta, for him during those dark times, especially now when Eva was in such close proximity. The facts were simple: he _hated_ her and made it clear to her whenever they crossed paths, that he did not care for her in the slightest. It was an effective way to convince himself he didn’t need her anymore and that Life will go on with or without him. He was convinced by Baretta a while back, that he must do his best to move on and that she and Standish would be there for him. It was times like those and other increasingly intimate moments with Baretta, that he cherished greatly and couldn’t wait to be back in her arms, whenever that day may be.

  Hicks successfully pushed away most of those agonizing memories that quite literally made his heart hurt, into the deep recesses of his mind and focused on the matter at hand. The doors closed silently with two separate doors joining together and were locked automatically. Hicks turned around and crouched low to position himself before the main body of the fallen telescope in the semi-darkness, grasping the complex instruments with the utmost care.

  Right before Hicks could heave upwards or do anything, he looked up and saw Eva in the same position as himself on the opposite end of the telescope, grasping the large mahogany legs looking back at him expectantly.

  “Let me help,” she piped in a hopeful manner. Hicks bit his tongue, trying to hold himself back from telling her to leave him alone with some profanity involved, but some of it slipped through with a keenly sharp reply, “Fuck off, I’m going to be late.” With that, he heaved up suddenly, but not without the unwanted help of the persistent girl in front of him matching his pace. Hicks muttered some profanities under his breath as he beckoned behind him to the corner of the wall next to his bed, to let her know that’s where he wanted to move the intricate contraption.

  After tucking away the large telescope in the corner, he got on his knees and went back to his plainly large chest; issued from the Department of the Navy when he graduated from boot camp as a PFC (Private First Class) almost two years ago.

  Hicks opened the container by sliding different pieces of metal into adjoining segments, almost like a jigsaw puzzle to unlock it, but made sure Eva wasn’t able to see the particular pattern if she leaned over his shoulder closely. Every man and woman in the Colonial Marines had a different ‘combination’ lock that he or she came up with for privacy from possible thefts on their own standard-issued trunks ever since the Marine Corps added ‘Colonial’ to their name.

  Once opened, Hicks thrust both of his hands into the tightly packed case and pulled them back out when he had his neatly folded uniform in his arms. His golden and bright red chevrons with crossed rifles were beautifully embroidered on both upper sleeves of his dress-blue Alphas, indicating the rank of a Lance-Corporal.

  Not sparing another moment, he rushed over into the bathroom to change quickly, ignoring Eva who was following him, matching his footfalls. Once inside, he instantly pressed the relatively same button that was built into the entry door at the guest quarters to close and lock the hard metal door, just in case his ex was planning to rush in there with him; he shuddered at that possibility. Hicks pressed another button near the opening and closing button in the same control panel. The lights came on in an overly-saturated glamour, blinding him temporarily.

  Attempting to ignore the artificial  lights, Hicks got into his sleek and black uniform in record time and was now looking at himself closely in the mirror, a good two inches away to inspect himself of any protruding facial hair or zits.

   _Fuck me dude_ , was what he thought when he ran his palms over several ‘patches’ of it on his cheeks and all underneath his neck; not to mention, about three pimples were front and center in between his eyebrows, all grouped together like a three-leaf clover. _Lucky, fucking, me._ He turned his attention to his palms that were cracked and supremely dry from his prolonged hyper-sleep; a fairly rare condition that roughly one out of 500,000 people got. Thankfully, those who are susceptible to the condition, were not harmed in any way. However the bad side effect, is a temporary over-dehydration of the body, which causes most parts of the skin around the joints, to shed profusely. This temporary condition mimics the same situation when someone is outside in the cold for too long and the skin gets dehydrated with no perspiration from the body that’s needed to be kept saturated.

  “ _I’m going to rue the day today,”_ he almost said out loud while rubbing his hands together, feeling over the flaky skin on his knuckles. He looked over at his uniform slowly, making sure that at least _it_ would make him appear better than what he really appeared to be.

  Satisfied with his flawless uniform, he ran his fingers over his collar that gently pressed up against his neck. The collars had on two golden pins that depicted the original Eagle, Globe, and Anchor on each side of his black collar with trim, blood red lines at the edges.

  He quit checking over himself, knowing that he was just adding more time to his tardiness and would probably be reprimanded for it. Pressing the button to turn off the discomforting lights, then the exit one to make haste towards his Navy box to fetch his peaked hat.   

  Unfortunately, Hicks walked right into Standish’s sister who happened to be standing in the doorway with her hands together in her lap. _God damnit._ “Uhp, sorry,” Hicks stuttered as he clumsily slid around her, hoping she wouldn’t say anything and then shuffled to his still-open box to retrieve the hat that went with his dress blues. She looked just as shocked as he did when he accidently ran into her.

  Stooping down, he picked his hat up with his left hand and pressed it onto his head securely while with his right, he reached further out to stroke a sleepy Amicus who was softly snoring, who’s nose was making a soft ‘whistling’ sound. Thereafter putting his hand on his dog’s head, Amicus woke up with a start and got onto his wobbly little legs. Shaking out his thick coat, he closed his drowsy eyes and pressed his face into Hicks’ hand, beseeching him to pet him more. The Lance-Corporal just laughed a little and got back up and paced towards the door while putting out his hand to let his dog know to stay. The young Australian Shepard wasn’t having none of that and proceeded to follow his master in multiple confidant prances.

  Hicks laughed again at his loyal companion’s futile attempts while pressing the door’s control panel to let himself out while using his leg to keep away a persistent Amicus who was trying to get through the now fully open door.

  Once out, he lunged for the door’s exterior control panel to close it but stopped himself abruptly when Eva got in between the door frame, butting her bare foot up in front of Wally’s exquisitely shined dress shoes that were still attempting to hold back the puppy.

  Hicks shot Eva one of the most annoyed glares in the whole Universe when she did that.

  “ _Move_ ,” he said to her bluntly, while leniently pushing against her foot and his dog.

  She moved a few inches towards the young Marine with her head looking straight down at their feet with disappointment painted on her face, her mouth wrinkling at the corners to support it. Raising her head slightly to seemingly look at each button that adorned Hicks’ uniformed chest, she attempted to rest her hands on his torso but he reflexibly took two wide steps back, refusing her attempted touch. With this, Amicus bounded out the door in triumph and ran down the same large corridor that Standish went through, disappearing from sight.

  Hicks locked his eyes on where he went then sighed heavily with growing frustration as he looked back at the girl before him that he did not want to be around... _at all_.

  “Can you not take a hint that I most sincerely _hate_ you?” She quickly looked up at Hicks while retreating back a couple of steps into the darkness of the guest room, being overtaken by a moment of shock by his reaction, but rapidly recovered. Looking back down at her bare, plain feet, she grinned a little, then silently spoke up with a bit of melancholy in her voice, “You will always care about me Wally…”, Eva brought up her right hand to hover over the entry button and smiled a little more, knowing that she had his full attention like always but frowned a little in sadness. “And I will always care for you...even if you don’t care for me anymore...you know I will always be here for you, waiting.” As soon as she finished saying that, Hicks promptly put in his two cents without a second thought, getting in her face, making sure to keep quiet, but putting forth clear malice in his tone, “I won’t _ever_ care for you after what you have done, not _ever..._ I fucking _hate_ you, you understand?”

  After that remark, he actually had a slight pang of regret of his statement when he saw that he hit a nerve too hard in her when she winced hard as if someone snapped their fingers in her face at his last sentence. She turned her head away quickly, her long black hair that went to her waist swishing to cover her face that he wouldn’t doubt was beginning to break into the faintest of tears. With her back to him fully, she pushed the button in the control panel on her side and the doors slowly made their way from their hidden slots to be joined together in the middle. The two pieces of metal closed painfully slow, which sounded like a gentle whirring sound. All the while, Hicks’ gaze was softened only by a margin when he saw that she turned ever so slightly to make eye contact with him through her hair that she tried to hide behind.

   _Fuck her, she practically screwed me over and was never loyal to me in the first place_ , he thought angrily to himself as he forcibly ripped his train of thought from where he was staring at Eva and spun around and began jogging down the brightly lit hallway to the parade deck five-hundred yards away.

_If she thinks she can guilt-trip me, she’s wrong...she’s dead wrong._

  But he knew deep down, that if he sifted through his mind thoroughly enough, he knew that guilt-tripping him, was nowhere near as close to her intentions, he knew her too well for that. His thoughts then drifted to even _why_ she fucked those two sons-of-bitches; he came to the sudden realization, that he never allowed her to explain herself and that he always shut her out after that horrible incident.

   _I should ask her why she did it one of these days...wait no, fuck that, she fucked_ two _guys when they knew she was_ mine _. There is no need to even ask why, it’s blatantly obvious she was horny and lonely when I was out in basic...this shit happens to almost_ every _guy who joins the Marines if they are in a God-damned Relationship._

  Now even though he _hated_ to admit it, she really was sorry for her sinful actions of the past. Ever since Eva admitted to him of her fault, she has been desperately wanting his forgiveness and even begged on her _knees_ once or twice on separate occasions while gravely holding onto Hicks’ hands that consistently tried to pry hers out of his, that she be given a second chance, but he was having none of it. Baretta was there when it happened once and she did not hesitate in going up to Eva to grab a handful of her hair and wrench her up to her feet. Hicks’ friend then immediately commenced with throttling his ex, sending her to run back to her car a good three years ago.

  Hicks continued to fight off the inner-battle in his mind while rapidly closing the distance to the parade deck. He could hear a colossal increase in loud talking and laughter from hundreds if not a thousand of his fellow Colonial Marines when he rounded a corner. He didn’t know what time it was and berated himself for not having some sort of wrist watch like Standish did.

  Continuing his way, he breathed a huge sigh of relief, that morning formation had not yet been called due to all the commotion, so he slowed his pace down to a walk, hoping that the perspiration that had begun to form on his face and neck would dissipate by the time he reached the deck.

  Running into a four-way, where four hallways met in one, Wally suddenly remembered about Amicus running off and began to slightly panic. Looking down each one intently that seemed to stretch for hundreds of yards, he adjusted his small, ‘bifocal’ styled glasses and pressed them upon the bridge of his nose as far as they would allow with his index finger to enhance his bad sight. He grimaced when he couldn’t find his overly ambitious dog and just decided to make his way where he was supposed to be.

_I’m sure he’ll either return to the dorm or find me_.

  And with that, he strolled to the right where he was greeted with many Marines chatting away, some greeting him courteously, others more physical, but all were friendly gestures nonetheless as he strode by. Returning the friendly gestures as best he could, albeit awkwardly, he walked leisurely between the small but numerous socializing groups.

  The chatting, laughter, and shouting was almost unbearable to Hicks when he got closer to a magnificently largely-open airlock that opened up to the ridiculously gigantic parade deck that could easily hold up to around four-thousand people. The Lance-Corporal had to excuse and pardon himself probably over fifty times when he accidently bumped into numerous comrades, all wearing the same uniform, with the only differences being the rank patches, medals pinned on chests, and the exquisite Officer uniforms. The Officers and Enlisted dress blues had some significant differences but Hicks didn’t really care to gawk at their more superb uniforms than his own while he weaved through everyone to get closer to the massive window that stretched nearly one thousand yards across, which was almost the length of the entire parade deck.

  Never in his life, had he seen such a splendid glamor of display. The giant window boasted and hinted at the size of the interior of the _Houston,_ and allowed its occupants inside to have a more than wide view into the Eternal blackness of Space; but of course it had numerous muntins running horizontally and vertically to support the thickness of the exceedingly thick, high temperature quartz glass.

  Humanity has been using this same material for their space crafts’ windows ever since the first manned flights into space back in the mid 20th Century. They haven’t found a more suitable replacement from their native Planets and the planet’s moons even after traversing out of the Sol System for the first time back in 2032 to the _Gliese 581_ Star System. Regardless of the lack of progress in strengthening the windows’ material, they were pretty darn strong, and are designed to withstand most, if not all foreign objects that ram into them. However, these windows cannot withstand superficial fast-moving objects, but that is when the ship’s shields come into play. This Texas-Class Dreadnought was the first human spacecraft to have shields. And they are _tough_. If those shields were to go down, all windows aboard would instantly be shielded by the same ‘invincible’ metal the ship was made up of, by slamming and locking into place. The same procedure would occur if a window was to crack or break for any reason.

  Once up against the window, he found a vacant bench right alongside it, which actually warmed him up since the ship was relatively close to Polaris. The large star was shining brightly and sent off waves of heat that made its way through the ship’s shields, which acted as an artificial ozone layer, exactly like that of Earth’s, which gently warmed the glass. Although, he didn’t know if the two dwarf stars that also resided in this system radiated any heat to them from their near-inconceivable distance.

  Hicks pressed himself against the window with a comfortable groan, happy to have some sort of heat source upon him. It was a nice change from the coldness that space had no trouble offering to its occupants.

  Getting rid of a wedgy that had formed, he adjusted himself against the glass, being mindful of the others around him constantly bustling around. Most enlisted men talked with other enlisted men and most Officers talked with other Officers while some groups had both parties intermingling with one another, speaking of numerous different things that weren’t important to listen in on. He even caught a glimpse of Standish talking amongst his own friends somewhere in the crowd.

_I am one lonely motherfucker_ , he thought to himself with amusement but not without the slightest pang of self-pity to the fact. It wasn’t a secret that his Commanding Officer, Standish, was his only friend, Baretta too, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Hicks prefered to keep his circle of friends extremely small, so that small bit if self-pity he had felt was quickly washed away.

  Not more than five seconds later, a booming voice sounded through a megaphone, echoing many times throughout the parade deck, making everyone instantly shut-up.

  “A-tennn-huuuuuut!” Exactly 1,478 pairs of eyes, including Hicks’, were quickly turned and those who were sitting down, stood upright to look at the man who called for their attention on a metal catwalk on the opposite end of the deck.

  Hicks and every other Colonial Marine stood at attention with their arms fully extended against their sides, heels together, toes pointed outwards at forty-five degree angles, and chins held high for a good thirty seconds with nothing happening.

 

<—I—>

 

  Two elderly men approached the man who had addressed the entire crowd of Soldiers about one-hundred yards down below. The man who still held the megaphone in his hand, set it down on a foldable metal table that was located beside him and turned to face the two approaching elders fully. He gave them a proper and stiff salute and the pair that was walking towards him, returned it and kept walking towards him briskly, one of them grinning while he did so in a mischievous way.

  The one who had initiated the salute and called for the attention of the Marines, was Sergeant Major Manswell of the Colonial Marine Corps and he, like everyone else in the enormous parade deck, had on his dress blues, with _all_ his medals decorating the left side of his chest, making him look like a giant magnet. It was this major detail as to why one of the inbound elders smiled with a bit of humor, trying to hold back a laugh.

  The other elderly man, was the Fleet Admiral of the United States Navy, Jones; he was first to reach the edge of the high up balcony with ease, looking down inquisitively at the Marines with a stern face, not even bothering to greet the Sergeant Major with a handshake or some other greeting. He had on the typical white Navy Uniform, with some intricate golden designs on his epaulets and peaked hat.

  And finally, the more seemingly relaxed of the duo, was General Owen Rufus Adams. He wore his freshly ironed Alpha dress blues with his white peaked hat with a trim golden chin strap resting at its regular position pressed firmly around his regulation-cut hair. Whereas on a enlisted man’s uniform, were red stripes, but on an Officer’s, like Adams’, were trim white lines that ran many lengths along his dazzling uniform. On each of his collar’s, were two separate pins that also depicted the famous Eagle, Globe, and Anchor in gold. The same is said for all the buttons, which were adorned with the same design, just like all of his enlisted boys. He also had on a large black belt that was fastened around his belly, which was held together with a brass buckle up front. A thinner black strap connected to this larger one twice, for it went over his right shoulder and was able to be handley clipped. And finally, he had his dress sword at his side that gently slapped against his left leg with each footfall.

  The United States Colonial Marine Corps uniforms were the exact same as the former ‘United States Marine Corps’, which was never dissolved, it just had its name changed when there was a need for a noteworthy militarized force in space as America needed to keep ahead of their enemies back in the 2020’s on Earth.

  Fortunately, the uniforms have never changed a single bit since the mid 19th Century, though he doubted and hoped they wouldn’t; he _loved_ the looks.

  The General made it to the edge of the catwalk shortly after his Navy counterpart, walking with a severe limp on his right leg.

  Unlike the Fleet Admiral, he gently grasped the shoulder of Sergeant Major Manswell, making him turn to him and shook the Sergeant Major’s gloved hand firmly with his own hand that was the same as the old enlisted man before him.

  Breaking off the greeting, Adams gestured with his free hand that wasn’t still grasping the Sergeant Major’s shoulder, towards the Marines below them with a large sincere smile that heavily increased the aged, long wrinkles on his face. Limping over to put both of his hands on the sturdy, flat metal railing to balance himself, he sighed thankfully as the weight was taken off his feet for a bit as he glanced over to Jones.

  Everything the General did was done slowly and carefully, considering his age was well over ninety, and he still felt a considerable amount of pain everytime he put too much pressure on his lame leg or any other body part for that matter.

  Adams cleared his throat noisily, making Manswell and Jones instantly turn their heads to face him; the Fleet Admiral did not have a single emotion painted on his face while the other man had on one of slight confusion.

_I can understand why some folks think him a robot_ , the senior thought to himself amusedly when he made eye contact with the Navy Officer. Almost every synthetic never expressed any emotions, which made sense; they were robots, synthetically created humans _by_ humans. But after the incident when Weyland Yutani hired PMC’s (Private Military Contractors) to defend their assets about ten years ago over and on LV-426, the United States Colonial Marine Corps was cut off supply of all Synthetics, and everything else that Weyland-Yutani normally provided them with, since Wey-Yu were the only ones who knew how to manufacture them. However, a few Androids remained in the service for the Corps and chose to stay with their assigned units within the Marines even after the event. All of them have been well-integrated and some were re-wired to be legitimate USCM Officers and Naval crewmen amongst the troops.

   _And there are some down there, including everyone else, looking up to me for guidance. I hope I will be able to impress them and meet all their expectations on this...expedition, if it can be called that._ The General always treated them as equals, which he has always earned their respect in his favor over his long career in the Corps. And he genuinely loved each one of his men, including the synthetics, that have served under him across the decades.

  The Marine Officer gestured with his hand towards the megaphone then to the Admiral. Jones put his hand up to say, ‘no’ and then splayed his hand out towards the megaphone, then to his Marine comrade, silently saying, “You may go first.”

  The General nodded in thanks and hobbled over to the megaphone, the Sergeant Major stepping back a couple of steps to give the much older Marine plenty of room to take his position with the handheld loudspeaker.

  Turning on the switch, which made the megaphone hum noisily and caused his ears to ring painfully for a few moments, making him wince. Once it died down, he cleared his throat, then put it close to his mouth and began addressing to his Marines down below, looking from face to face with a firm and loud voice; surprising for such an old Man, with a broad smile on his face.

  “Good morning Marines!” Unanimously and in-sync, every single grunt responded in kind with a thunderous chorus of, “Good morning General Adams!”, which shook the metal gratings beneath Adams’ polished dress shoes, making him smile wider at the enthusiastic response. Moving the megaphone to the side, he cleared his throat once again to get rid of some blockage building up in his throat, then returned it to its original place to continue what he had to say.

  “I sure do appreciate all of you looking your absolute best for us this morning…”. He trailed off, bringing up his hand to his heart that suddenly felt as if someone impaled his vital organ with a knife; but the pain subsided after a few seconds. He could see in his peripheral vision to his left while this was happening, that the Sergeant Major was gazing at him worriedly and the Fleet Admiral looked rather annoyed.

_I sure am old_ , he mused to himself before getting on with his morning speech, “...Now I am going to keep this short, so listen closely Ladies and Gentlemen...we are now just about 155 hours away from making our destination, so I am taking the liberty to tell you all...that we are heading for the planet known as ‘ _Goldilocks_ ’…as some of you early birds may have noticed.”

  Adams tried to see any noticeable murmurs or twitches in the large gathering of Marines at attention down below but saw none, which was expected; they’re well trained and disciplined soldiers who had no idea what _Goldilocks_ was (most of them), but they sure as hell knew of the dire situation they were in. “This is _the_ first Earth-like planet that Mankind has ever discovered and is almost exact to Earth’s natural features, yet as expected, obtains some... _Alien_ characteristics...you all will find everything you need to know about the planet on your PDA’s...it is _mandatory_ for every single one of you, regardless of rank or job, to make ready for the most significant changes you all will experience once planetside; all the information is being sent to everyone on this ship as we speak...this _will_ take some time to get used to, to the numerous differences once planetside.”

  He turned away from the megaphone and cleared his throat again. Returning to the loudspeaker, he moved on to the more gloomy part of the morning address: “Now boys, I hate to say this, and I’d be doing a disservice to you all if I withheld any information from you...” He trailed off for three seconds when he saw Jones glare intensely at him in his peripheral vision. The Fleet Admiral immediately caught onto his hypocrisy and was silently yelling at him to not spill the beans or there could be a possible disturbance in the order of the Marines, which would not be good.

  The reason for the General’s hypocritical statement, is because he normally _would_ tell his men all the details they would need to know. But not this time, this time, he wasn’t sure if he should tell his men and the civilians who were listening, that absolutely no one was going back home, _no one_.

  But the General didn’t have time to reflect on the reasons why at the moment.

  “I must regret to inform you all, that our original orders, which were to put in reserve support for the 78th, 79th, and 80th MEFs in the Alpha Centauri system, have completely...changed.”

  This time, he actually saw a quite a few Marines shift their feet at his last statement and some glanced at each other. “As you all know, we had to make an emergency jump with the _Genesis_ back on Earth and soon after, entered cryosleep,” turning to the side, he cleared his throat, then concluded with that he had to say, “And that is where I will hand off the rest of this morning address to the Fleet Admiral.”

  A thousand eyes shifted over an inch to the Navy Officer who was now standing right behind the General. Turning around, he saw Jones just standing there a couple of feet away looking intently at him in a stern and stoic fashion with his hands behind his back, with absolutely no emotion in his face. If Adams was someone else, he most certainly would have visibly flinched and maybe even shouted in surprise at Jones’ sudden intrusion.

  The General only blinked at him and silently wondered to himself how his Navy counterpart had moved behind him so quietly. _My hearing would be a likely candidate to blame_.

  Giving a polite nod to the Fleet Admiral, he handed over the loudspeaker and shuffled over to where the man in white was standing when he addressed the men down below.

  The Fleet Admiral put the speaker up to his mouth and commenced with his disquisition, “Alright jarheads, now listen up because I will _not_ repeat myself to any of you grunts.” Adams saw the Sergeant Major give the Navy Officer a hard stare at that statement in the corner of his eye, but kept his eyes averted and locked onto the Fleet Admiral’s back.

  Jones wasn’t as old as Sergeant Major Manswell and was _definitely_ nowhere near as old as General Adams, but was still significantly aged nonetheless at 69 years old.

  The Fleet Admirals voice when speaking was that of an intellect; punctual, yet smooth, but devoid of any emotion which was unnerving to most, if not all, to whoever heard him speak.

  “I can imagine that the lot of you may have tried to send emails, messages, video messages, and the likes to your families or whoever else...you left behind on Earth.” Jones put a slightly noticeable amount of emphasis into his words at the end of what he said before continuing without a delay, “I have instructed that all communications to be disabled until further notice from me, and me alone. The same is being enforced over on the _Genesis_ . My reasoning for this, is because I _cannot_ risk my ship and the civilians we are escorting, to be led to being discovered by that Weyland character nor any of his goons. Sending and receiving transmissions would put _everyone’s_ lives in jeopardy. Now unlike communications, the homing beacons have been _permanently_ removed to further throw them off.” He stopped talking for a little bit, letting what he had said sink in for all to hear below him. He began pacing back and forth along the catwalk, not bothering to look at the uniformed Marines below him; Sergeant Major Manswell and the General followed him with their gazes, as did everyone else, listening intently at what he is saying.

  “I have been briefed that the location of where we are located is completely unknown to Weyland-Yutani and those pesky Youtja bastards...I would like to keep it that way. Having communications or any type of signals being sent out would only attract them...now as for the original orders that all of you received before coming onto my ship of simply serving as a reserve force for the other three MAGTFs...consider them rebuked indefinitely. Since we are _unable_ to receive new orders from command, _I_ am assuming overall authority of all present Naval and Marine forces as the highest ranking Officer present between both vessels.”

  Adams saw his fellow ranking Marine beside him visibly scowl to himself under his breath and ‘itch’ his nose in clear resentment at what Fleet Admiral Jones had said. Yet he himself, was surprised and couldn’t help but feel slightly irked by what his Navy counterpart had just proclaimed before _his_ Marines on both ships. The five-hundred Colonial Marines on the _Genesis_ were being broadcasted to from a few crewmen manning cameras from different angles amongst separate and parallel catwalks when morning formation was called by the Sergeant Major.

  “This may seem like a shock to you all, but I am simply letting the lot of you know how things will be running from now on...I expect absolute obedience from each and every one of you.” Jones paused again to let his words assimilate and settle amongst all the Colonial Marines, including the two behind him before going on emotionlessly, “Before I dismiss you Marines, I must make this last part extremely clear...as your new Commanding Officer, I am issuing new orders, right now.”. He stopped walking at the end of the catwalk nearest to the gigantic window that was now showing the _Genesis_ clearly, about two-thousand yards out, but Adams and Russel stayed put where they were, just following him with their gazes. The Fleet Admiral made a quick and sharp gesture with his right hand, pointing out the window and at the ship in the distance, “..everyone look out the window.”

  Almost in unison, the thousand Marines peered out the bay window, albeit most were hesitant due to the insecurity of just discovering that they were now _apparently_ under the jurisdiction of a Naval Officer, _this_ particular Naval Officer to be exact.

  Fleet Admiral Jones wasn’t exactly a likeable man. Many, if not all who came into contact with him or who were under his command, found out very quickly that he does not care for the lives lost under his command, only that the mission succeeds without a hitch. This fact has earned him a bad reputation across the armed forces. It was also that stoic attitude, that has put himself in the position for everyone to see that he was the only commanding officer in the war to have gotten the most of his men killed than any other officer amongst the different branches of the military _combined_ . And just the way he talks and looks at everyone was just empty of any emotion, _all_ emotion.

  “That ship’s mission, the _Genesis_ ’, will be the mission all of you will work to protect... _at all costs_ ,” the Fleet Admiral suddenly looked down to his right, putting his right arm behind his back, briefly looking down at the soldiers before him, “It is not known if you will encounter any hostiles during your stay at Goldilocks, it is highly unlikely, but expect it nonetheless. You all should know that when most colonies are set up, they happen to get wiped out because they did not have a significant defense force there. I aim to not repeat the mistakes of the colonial administration.”

  By this time, Jones had made his way back to his original spot beside the foldable table and took a deep breath, which surprised both Marines behind him.

  Despite General Adams not particularly liking the Fleet Admiral, he did feel sympathy for him in what he had just said over the loudspeaker concerning hostile alien life attacking colonies.

  Whether the Fleet Admiral was intentionally being reminiscent or not, Adams knew that, from what he has learned from digging through piles of official documents and even going through Jones’ personal journal, he found out that the Fleet Admiral, a Captain once upon a time, felt responsible for failing to protect a Weyland-Yutani-funded Colony in the _Sirius_ star system, on the planet of _Xylanthia_ back in 2159.

  Apparently, there were some never-seen-before, subtly hostile native beings that constantly pestered the colonists but were not able stop them from building their colony, then a xenomorph outbreak occurred _somehow_ which got Weyland-Yutani’s attention _real_ fast, so they sent in their weapons division to confiscate as many Xenomorph specimens as possible, and detained all the colonists they ‘rescued’ saying that they were, “‘infected’ and needed to be ‘disinfected’”, which really meant that they just wanted to procure hosts for the ovomorphs they got their hands on.

  In one of Fleet Admiral Jones’ audio recordings back when he was a Captain, said, “...I was wanting to send down Marine detachments to repel the infestation, secure a perimeter around the colony, and evacuate all the civilians along with my Wife, Susan, who happened to be a part in the colonization effort back then. But I was not able to do my job because of fucking Mr. Weyland. He was hindering me from doing anything due to the colony being _his_ property. So I was forced to stay in orbit and watch everything go down to hell. And to top it all off, _two_ Yautja warships arrived in the vicinity and immediately commenced with firing on my ship. I was not going to let _those_ damnable abominations of the universe take down _my_ ship like they have done so with every other human vessel encountered, so I repelled them to the utmost of my ability...And I won.

  Although I had defeated those ugly fuckers, which was tremendously difficult mind you, there was still the Xenomorph outbreak on the surface to worry about. So I flew over where the colony was located, still in orbit, and tried to contact the colonists down there. No response. Then I tried to call Weyland, see if he and his dumb fucks were still down there. Again, nothing. So against his... _orders_ of me not sending any Marines down there, I did so anyways to reestablish contact and of hope that the Marines could return Susan to me. However, not more than one hour of the grunts I sent in, the poor guys got turned into hosts for those... _Aliens_ . I still don’t know if Weyland and his crew made it out alive or anyone else for that matter, but the second group I sent down were actually able to find my Wife. Well and alive with a few other survivors, so they were all brought back to the ship posthaste without an afterthought. I was more than happy after being able to be reunited with Susan, even if it were for a few hours...because she ended up being a god-damn walking incubator for one of those...what were their names again that those xenobiologists called them? Ah yes, _Internecivus raptus_ -just _xenomorphs_ , along with all the other survivors the grunts procured from the overrun colony. Unfortunately, the hosts all died, but we were able to thankfully capture all the spawns of hell and keep them detained until we vented them out into space.”

  He continued to elaborate on his ‘feelings’ on the matter but concluded his journal entry with, “After being called back to the 77th Fleet, and finishing up my official report on the whole ordeal, and getting promoted to Rear-Admiral for the whole ordeal, which I wholeheartedly did not deserve, still don’t to this day, I began reflecting back to it all and thought, ‘I was able to take down _two_ Yautja warships single-handedly, a species that has achieved faster-than light travel before us by _centuries_ , yet I was not able to take down a species that doesn’t even have _eyes’_.”

  After Adams processed through that recollected memory of the audio recording within the span of a minute, he realized that Jones really wasn’t a cold-hearted man, rather he was just one to wrap himself in a cold, hardened shell, or maybe he was. Regardless, he was sure that very few people knew that kind of sensitive information.

  The Fleet Admiral concluded his speech with the slightest hint of anger and resentment in his tone, “This Colony _will not_ get destroyed or taken over by _anything_! Is that clear Marines?!” There was a full second of hesitation before all of the grunts shouted unanimously, excluding Adams and Manswell, “AYE SIR!!!” Their voices resounded throughout the parade deck almost deafeningly. This was followed quickly by the Fleet Admiral shouting into the megaphone, “Dismissed!” with nowhere near the same resonance as the Marines down below had.

  The Fleet Admiral quickly gave the sailors who were filming him to cut the feed with a swipe of his free hand across his neck, then placed the megaphone onto the table and switched it off. Turning around, he approached the General and Sergeant Major with his hands clasped behind his back, not looking at either of them and his head held high with the same emotionless-face as he walked off the catwalk and into an adjoining room, out of sight.

  As soon as the Navy Officer disappeared, Adams looked over to the Sergeant Major who was boring holes with his eyes at where Jones went. The General was a little surprised but not quite so when he saw that Manswell’s face was flushed a bright red, he was practically a large red tomato, an _angry_ tomato.

  Adams knew that even if Manswell listened to Jones’ audio recording and read up on the official documents on the Fleet Admiral’s ‘failure’, he would not take pity on Jones. The Sergeant Major here was well-respected by everyone in the 77th, but all kept clear of his anger fits. One could well-nigh _feel_ the anger radiating off of him, so before the Sergeant Major burst, he stepped forward and placed a wrinkled, old hand on Manswell’s shoulder and cleared his throat noisily which caused him to come-to quickly, but the deep shade of red upon his face was still plainly apparent.

  “All will be alright old friend, I’ll make it clear to him that he has no control over our boys,” Adams told him reassuringly with that infamous ‘frog-voice’, yet his words were steady.

  Manswell avoided eye contact with the elderly Marine officer, looking at nothing in particular while he said, “Sounds good sir...I was damn-near close to busting the selfish pratt apart when he said what he said about all that bullshit...can’t stand the fucker General.”

  Closing his eyes and nodding in solicitude, Adams retracted his hand, turned on his heel, which made him grunt in pain and commenced with following Jones’ trail to speak to him on the matter more privately.

  He stopped himself from walking into the adjacent room by pushing his cane onto the grated flooring, being careful as to not place it in-between the open spaces. Losing his special cane would _not_ make his day.

  Turning around to face the Sergeant Major, he stopped himself mid-turn when the grizzled enlisted man came up to his side.

  “What are my orders sir?”, Manswell asked dutifully.

  Adams chuckled slightly as he turned to face the Sergeant Major and walked over to the wall and leaned his back against it carefully, exhaling deeply as he did while looking down at the Marines bustling about to exit the oversized parade deck. “Well Sergeant Major...considering the fact that anything and absolutely everything can go wrong at a moment’s notice and the fact that when we feel the safest, the enemy always strikes us hard and fast. I may very well suggest that if you are able, take…”, Adams lost his train of thought for a few seconds, completely forgetting what he was going to even tell Manswell what his orders were.

  “Take...what, sir?”, the Sergeant Major asked in a hushed tone, while taking a step forward, mistakenly thinking that the General wanted to keep his orders confidential.

  The elderly Marine officer took in a deep breath and exhaled as best he could but wasn’t able to completely bring himself to do so before elaborating on what he wanted Manswell to do. Adams had a fairly uncommon condition known as, “Rib Flare”, that negatively affects his breathing, causing him not being able release all the air he breathed into his lungs and take full breaths.

  Ignoring the slightly bloated sensation of stale air inside of him, he got on with what he had to say, which was of the utmost importance. “I need you to round-up _all_ of Alpha Company, First Reconnaissance Battalion. Bring them all to my office. Can you do that for me?”

  Manswell nodded, “Of course sir, when would you like it done?” The General pushed himself lightly off the wall then steadied himself with his cane and resumed walking through the nearby room, the Sergeant Major staying by his side. “In ten hours...but right now-”, he had to stop himself from speaking in order to take a deep breath and exhale laboriously before continuing, “-‘scuse me...go ahead and begin drilling _all_ the men to repel boarders until you’re satisfied with the execution of their drills, then in ten hours from now, bring that recon team to my office. I need them well rested before I speak to them.”

  Both of them stopped to face one another as they saluted the other and went about their day; Sergeant Major Manswell jogged lightly back along the catwalks and down to the parade deck below and General Adams made his way slowly through the room that adjoined the high-up catwalks on the main deck of the _Houston_ to find the Fleet Admiral.

 

<—I—>

 

  A painfully familiar hand harshly swiped his bare back with water and soap, making a resounding ‘SLAP’ that made him cry out and double over onto his hands and knees in pain.

  “Should’ve taken that fire that I offered to you before getting in the shower Hicks! Then you wouldn’t have been in so much pain!”, were the mocking words that Corporal Artur yelled at him after the hit.

  When he was offered the ‘fire’ before entering one of the _Houston’s_ many communal showers that could take care of up to two-hundred men at a time, he quickly declined out of the fear that he himself would get addicted or come down with some sort of bad side effect from the substance. When Artur kept pressing him to take it, being all suspicious-like with a few dozen marines and naval crewmen moving about them, he had pushed past Artur to make his point known that he wasn’t taking none of that crap and most definitely did not want to get caught in a would-be drug deal. He’d get dishonorably discharged instantly and be thrown in the brig for all eternity!

  Though he had no idea how the Corporal was able to get _that_ kind of contraband on board, he theorized that Artur was able to do so when his company entered the _Houston_ during the panic to escape Earth’s orbit and onto their designated ship with the Navy.

  So he felt like he made the right choice by declining while he walked through the shower room with his head held high. That was until now.

  He quickly began to feel nauseous and felt thick, warm liquid begin to seep out from his back where the detainee had viciously slapped him. The hot water that was being sprayed onto him from an above shower head, was harshly lancing the newly created wound on his back but he had no time to crawl away from the stinging sensation from the pelting water droplets nor even reach behind himself and confirm what he thought was exiting his back before getting hauled painfully onto his feet by Artur.

  The New Yorker took out a small, black container that looked like your normal drug-prescription bottle from the pharmacist. However, its contents were so sinister, that _no_ pharmacist, doctor, or surgeon, in their right minds, would ever give to their patients.

  Flicking it open with one swipe with his thumb while strangling Hicks with his other hand, he briefly let go of the Lance-Corporal to pop out one of the pills out onto his hand. He set the still-full container of potent pills of the ‘fire’ down on the wet and steamy floor that was beginning to be stained with Hicks’ blood.

  The ‘fire’ that the Corporal had mentioned was an _insanely_ rare drug known as ‘Xeno-Zip’. When ingested, depending on the dosage, it will make the user have an inhumane adrenalin rush. In other words, the effects of this powerful drug can be helpful in a life or death situation but may also cause the user to be a threat to themselves and _especially_ others around them. The effect onset is rapid; merely a few seconds after ingesting and lasts 3 hours. The drug is quite addictive and anecdotally causes boosted mood and confidence where a user feels like a god, whether this is psychological or chemical in nature is unknown.

  While he was being strangled by the Corporal, he started to feel a little faint and dizzy, that of which was being accompanied by his tongue starting to feel fuzzy, dreaded symptoms of bile that was soon to come creeping up his throat. And as soon as Artur released Hicks, the Lance-Corporal fell back onto his hands and knees with some relief.

  Through this relief, he quickly realized that he was relatively free and saw the damnable Corporal putting something on the ground. Putting his hands beneath himself and pushing upwards, he enabled himself to stand up but not before seeing his blood lightly staining the shower floor around him. This brief consolation was short-lived when he saw his blood, so his body immediately responded with heaving up what little contents were in his digestive system.

  He began puking bits and pieces of his last meal, which was before he and everyone else entered hypersleep, which was all burning his throat pretty badly, rendering him to be desperately gasping for air in between heaving up the small bits.

  The reason to Hicks’ puking after he confirmed that he was bleeding, was that he was extremely phobius to his own blood. Seeing other people’s blood did not aile him at all, but seeing his own or feeling an excess of blood leaving his body, made him instantly want to start heaving and then pass out shortly after.

  But he would not allow himself to black out, he had to get out of here, away from this convict that would surely injure him much more than what he had already did.

  Willing himself to regain his posture somewhat, he was suddenly brought into a choke hold and staggered backwards, only to be braced by the cringe-worthy puginess of the Corporal. The wound on his back increased twofold when it made contact with the drenched cotton shirt Artur wore, rubbing roughly against his back.

  He tried to get out of his grip in vain, but his strength was leaving him, feeling himself begin to get very sleepy.

  “Are you done yet?”, came the New Yorker’s heavily accented voice behind his head. Hicks responded with another wave of painful and burning wretching from his throat, sending the last pieces of thawed-out and half digested food out of his system and onto the white-washed floor.

  He now began to dry heave while still struggling in Artur’s tight grip with his arms and legs. He felt the Corporal’s other tightly-clenched hand make its way to his mouth, containing one of the pills.

  By the time Hicks found out what was in the NCO’s fisted hand, he knew it was already too late, as he felt Artur’s sickening fingers shove themselves past his lips and into his mouth with the large pill being placed in the back of his throat. He immediately began to gag violently as his airway was being closed off by the Xeno-Zip and Artur’s invading fingers which were pushing the dark pill further down his esophagus, along with the headlock he was being put in.

  Hicks thought he heard an angry shout, but brushed it off as his ears playing tricks on him as his brain began to shut down from no oxygen entering his lungs.

  Desperate to breathe again, he half-reluctantly swallowed the large pill, feeling it painfully travel all the way down his throat, almost like swallowing a large wad of gum.

_At least it was lubricated_ , was what he thought before feeling himself being promptly dropped to the wet floor haphazardly that was lightly coated in his blood from his back wound along with the steamy water.

  Hicks laid sprawled out on the floor gasping and crawling away from the blistering heat of the hot splattering liquid. He felt himself slip in and out of consciousness but was able to maintain a certain level of limbo without going completely unconscious. So Hicks was pretty much out of it, but was still able to hear and process information and even move around, yet quite groggily.

  He continued to hear shouting, but it was much louder and could clearly hear it was originating from someone who held authority, but couldn’t quite put his finger on who exactly. Following this shouting, came a different, opposing shout, which was from the Corporal. The shout was cut off quickly by a sharp crack, which shortly commenced with whoever had shouted at Artur, to begin laying into him with multiple punches.

  Feeling like he was not yet out of the woods, he willed himself to force open his eyes and spot the area of commotion in the shower room to get a firm grasp on what was going on.

  Still lying on the steamy and wet floor languishly, he fluttered his eyes multiple times until his vision cleared up completely and he was immediately greeted with the sight of the Corporal on the ground being forcibly restrained by the Sergeant Major and four other Marines who were all taking showers before the incident; though he did not know any of them.

  The naked Lance-Corporal heard the Sergeant Major tell the other marines to keep the heavily adrenalized Corporal pinned to the floor.

  And while the four soldiers did as they were told, Manswell briskly walked up to Hicks and stood there before him, hands on his hips, but Hicks could only see his insanely shiny dress shoes and pant legs with the blood stripes running down the sides; water droplets being splashed upon both pieces of his clothing and footwear.

  “On your feet Marine!”, came his suddenly harsh demand which made Hicks get surprisingly annoyed and angered at, but suppressed those emotions quickly, knowing that he would get himself punished harshly if he showed any resentment to an order. He immediately shouted, “Aye-Aye sir!”, less than a second after the Sergeant Major’s command.

  That certain phrase was what he said after being given an order from any superior of his, a habit that has never left him since graduating boot camp. Good times.

  Upon finishing his acknowledgement of Manswell’s order, he dragged his arms and hands below his shoulders in a prone, push-up position, preparing to feel his back sting like Hell once-more. But none of it came, in fact, as he pushed himself off the floor, he felt like he could do hundreds of push-ups without losing any momentum!

  Not wanting to entertain the possibility, he pushed away the thought and hastily got to his feet and stood at attention.

  Completely oblivious and have forgotten his own nakedness, he addressed Sergeant Major Manswell while looking straight ahead.

  “Sir, what do you require of this Lance-Corporal sir!?”, his question came out extremely fast and he nearly tripped over his own words due to how rapidly the effects of the Xeno-Zip pill was being integrated into his body.

_Fuck, my heart is racing a million miles an hour, I really hope I don’t have a god-damn heart attack from that pill..._

  Manswell’s response was just as quick as his own. He sounded very impatient and was breathing heavily, most likely from throttling the Corporal, “Are you with First Reconnaissance Battalion, Alpha Company?”

  Hicks cleared his throat and took a deep breath, still slightly gasping after being choked, nearly to suffocation. His fast heart rate wasn’t helping either.

  “Aye-aye sir,” came his quick reply.

  The Sergeant-Major nodded curtly in approval and then turned his head to his left to point over his shoulder at Artur, “And this fool?”

  The young Marine didn’t avert his gaze to look at who his superior officer was pointing at, he just clenched his teeth against each other in anger. “Unfortunately sir...”

  Manswell grunted in agreement and looked back at Hicks with his eyes furrowing in great agitation. “I can’t agree more Marine...now get yourself cleaned up and put some clothes on. General Adams wants you and everyone else in your Company to be in his office immediately.”

  Hicks wasted no time in acknowledging the order and then sprinting away from the scene, but on his second step, he slipped on his own blood and water, and fell right on his back, leaving him a gasping heap once-more.

  He heard maniacal laughing behind him and knew it to be from Artur, so he quickly got up after passing the initial phase of the wind being knocked out of him and speed-walked carefully out of the communal shower room to where he had stripped off his clothing.

  Normally, he would be lowering his head and doing his best out of immense embarrassment to stay out of the spotlight that he found himself in, but he had bigger matters to attend to, like getting briefed by General Adams himself. So he held his chin high, and practically marched out of the large, steamy area to get himself squared away.

  The Corporal’s comical relief of seeing Hicks slip and fall was cut short by a hard backhand slap across his mouth by the Sergeant Major soon after the Lance-Corporal got back up and stomped off.

  “YOU, shut your goddamn mouth _detainee_ ,” Manswell seethed at him from his kneeling position he was in and then straightened his uniform, getting up to his feet. He looked sharply at the four Marines who had their knees and arms jutting into the New Yorker’s body the whole time.

  “Get some cuffs on’m boys...then escort the son-of-bitch to General Adams office, now!”

  The Marines unanimously shouted, “Aye-aye sir!”, enthusiastically before yanking the insubordinate to his feet and one of them pulled out a pair of heavy-duty handcuffs and clasped them around Artur’s wrists.

   _Everyone_ in the 117th MEU (Marine Expeditionary Unit, which is the smallest type of unit in the MAGTFs [Marine Air-Ground Task Force]) knew who this New Yorker was and _no one_ liked him. He consistently caused trouble for _anyone_ in the most obnoxious ways that are considered so hideous, that they are quite unmentionable.

  So when the four Marines were ordered by General Adams who had walked into the huge shower room and saw the damnable Corporal bullying Hicks, an absolutely intolerable act, they jumped to the General’s assistance with 110% enthusiasm.

  While the team of Marines left the super steamy shower room with Artur struggling in vain against them, Manswell walked up to the shower head that Hicks was using that was still running at full blast.

  Avoiding the hot water that had almost drained all of Hicks’ blood on the ground, he bent over a little to wheel off the water knobs and begun to look around for anything of suspicion. He knew better than to leave an area where Corporal Artur got himself into any kind of trouble without crucially inspecting the scene; there was _always_ something he left behind after one of his ‘tirades’.

  After ten seconds of looking around the area and greeting passing naked Marines and sailors who were also getting a shower, he found the disguised bottle of Xeno-Zip sitting on the ground.

  Shaking his head, he pulled out a small walkie-talkie that was in his pant leg pocket and put the device up to his ear while looking at the seemingly harmless bottle.

  The earpiece hummed a little bit, indicating it was ringing. The noise stopped after a few seconds and a gruff and growly voice that clearly depicted the owner smoked heavily with a deep hillbilly accent.

  “Yessuh?”

  The Sergeant Major instantly replied demandingly with, “Get down here to communal shower room ‘E’. Artur left behind a...prescription bottle after attacking another Marine here a couple of minutes ago, possible contraband.”

  The man on the other end of the line was the _Houston’s_ jailer who was responsible for detaining any unallowed things onboard and keeping prisoners apprehended when needed. He responded after releasing a heavy sigh.

  “Ain’t dat de one guy foam Afa Comp’nee who causes ahllll dat trouble suh?”

  Manswell nodded to himself as if the jailer could see him.

  “That’s right, now come and get it. And make sure to keep it in containment and don’t touch it with your bare hands! God-knows where that idiot has been with this bottle and _what’s in it_. I’ll stay here and wave you down, but then I have to report to General Adams soon after.”

  The jailer nonchalantly acknowledged the Sergeant Major, “Undehstood Manswell suh, on ma way now.”

 

«§»

 

  Lance-Corporal Hicks, Captain Standish, and everyone else in Alpha Company, which was a well-known scouting team with the First Reconnaissance Battalion in the 117th MEU, stood at ease before General Adams while he was standing behind his desk a few meters away.

  They weren’t the best outfit when compared to the other recon companies in the First Recon Battalion, but they weren’t the worst. But when push comes to shove, Alpha Company wasn’t the first reconnaissance team that came to General Adams’ mind in order to get the job done. Normally, he’d give the hardest assignment, like the one he was giving out now, to the top company, but that particular company did not make it into the warship and neither did any of the other recon companies of the Battalion, only Alpha Company made it onto the _Houston_ back on Earth.

  Hicks noticed that soon after the General began his briefing for them, he would have to clear his throat once or twice a minute and breathe deeply before going on. It was the first time that he actually understood how _old_ his supreme commanding officer was.

  Standish stood in the center and roughly one yard in front of his men, all 23 of his company were standing behind him, who were all five abreast deep, all one yard apart. Hicks stood directly behind the Captain, and last, but definitely least, Corporal Artur stood to the side, away from everyone with his hands cuffed behind him with two MP (Military Police) Marines keeping him at gunpoint with state-of-the-art pulse rifles, armed with one-foot and a half long electrified steel bayonets.

  The General had been speaking for just little over ten minutes and Hicks just couldn’t pay attention, no matter how hard he tried. After spilling all the contents of his stomach out through his mouth fifteen minutes prior and not taking the chance of eating breakfast when he woke up from hypersleep a good eleven hours ago, he couldn’t put up an act to appear normal. He was _hungry_! The young Marine couldn’t wait for Adams to hurry up with what he was saying about his Company being the, “...first boots on the ground…”, and wanting them to do, “...extensive recon for one week where NASA wants to build their permanent Colony on the planet, as well as protecting some scientists who will be doing their thing down there...”

  Not only was he hungry, but he was having one hell of a time trying to stay absolutely still while in formation. The effects of the Xeno-Zip pill that he was forced to swallow has already been well-integrated into his body since the past half-hour.

  “...it is important for you all to _only_ bring what you need. I forgot to mention to pack enough socks _and_ rain gear to last one week. As I have previously stated, the environment down there is extremely wet and mildly cool, about sixty to seventy degrees year-round and quite windy, the speeds average to about forty miles per hour out in the open. Hypothermia and trench foot _will_ be a problem if not taken proper care of. I’ll be sending a detachment of Navy corpsmen and field surgeons to accompany you Gentlemen...should _anything_ happen.”

  Hicks was getting insanely impatient and fidgety when ten minutes had past. He had been mostly staring holes at a digital clock that was above the General’s head, willing for time itself to hurry up so he can finally be dismissed.

  He felt someone nudge him from behind, followed by a faint whisper, “You okay bro?”

  The Lance-Corporal deftly gave two ‘thumbs up’ signs with his hands behind his back, being careful as to not move his arms, but only his wrists and hands. This must have gave the Marine behind him an affirmative, since Hicks heard him quietly grunt in acknowledgement.

  “...as for you detainees, and the newest addition to you _misfits_..”, Hicks stiffened when he heard General Adams mention him indirectly. The men around him laughed briefly in good humor to the criticism they just received. Adams cracked a grin until the laughter died down, then returned to his solemn facial expression.

  “..this mission that I am entrusting to you boys, is going to be an extremely delicate deployment. Again, NASA does _not_ know if there are any hostile wildlife _or_ intelligent Life for that matter...but keep in mind... _anything_ is possible gentlemen...”, Adams began to make eye contact with every man in Alpha Company.

  “..now I hate to and would rather not insult the majority of you detainee’s offenses, but I want to make something crystal clear...there will _not_ be any sort of flirtatious acts or _anything_ done to get in the way of the scientists’ work, especially the females. Let them do their job and stay out of their business, don’t even talk to them unless absolutely necessary,” he began walking around Alpha Company, making sure to crucially inspect the men before him, not looking at Hicks for some reason. That was making him surely nervous.

  The General finished his rounds around the group and stopped behind his desk, glancing from one Marine to the next.

  “And lastly...be careful down there...you all will be the first humans to set foot on this planet, do _not_ disappoint me or make a bad impression. I am _counting_ on each and every one of you.”

  Adams made sure to keep his tone orderly and serious to get his point across. Hicks could see his face was contorted in the most serious expression you could ever imagine, but at the same time, held some sympathy in them as he noticed the General’s eyes, gaze across everyone in his Office.

  “You all are dismissed...except for Hicks and Standish.”

  Hicks darted his eyes to the back of Standish’s head, as he was still directly behind him. He really hoped that the General didn’t catch on to any of his antsy and uncomfortable movements for the past twelve or so minutes, especially with his line of sight mostly fixated upon the clock and not the back of his Captain’s head.

  All the other Marines saluted General Adams sharply, then they began filing out of the office in an orderly manner, single file. The two heavily armored guards ushered the still angry Artur out the door with their pulse rifles after the small unit had all exited. One of the guards stopped after stepping over the door’s threshold and lightly tapped a green holographic button on the exterior to close it, exchanging a respectful nod with the General, then caught up with his fellow Marine to continue escorting the disorderly Corporal out.

  A few painfully awkward seconds went by with only the three of them in the office; Hicks just stayed right behind Standish, too afraid to move until he or the General told him to move. Because in the Colonial Marines, you don’t _breathe_ unless ordered to.

  “Lance-Corporal, why the-, why are you standing behi-”, Adams was apparently having trouble finding the correct words for the Marine standing behind the Captain to move over so he could actually see him.

  The General sighed and shook his head and then chuckled a little to himself, “Get where I can see you kid.”

  The young Marine complied quickly, albeit a little bit too fast for his own good as he scuffed his black dress shoes upon the floor as he practically skipped over to his best friend’s side. He stumbled for half a second but recomposed himself and got back into parade rest position like Standish was in, keeping his line of sight as straight as straight could be. Keeping himself still was becoming more and more of a problem, as he could feel himself shaking quite noticeably.

  The attitude he was currently swimming in was _not_ what he professed in at all and was about to explode with multiple profanities in front of the General if Adams didn’t relieve him soon. He felt extremely impatient and pissed, the two emotions that he rarely, if ever, felt the need to delve into or let himself fall into. He simply was not who he was after being forced to swallow that damnable pill that was chuck-full of God-knows what.

_I fucking hate you Artur._

  A few more seconds past, the awkward silence only increasing the beginning of an annoyingly ring in his ears from a lack of verbal communication, save for the soft humming of the lights in the room and energy being transferred throughout numerous pipes in the walls, ceilings, and floor.

_Oh Jesus this is going to be difficult as hell._

“Captain Standish, Lance-Corporal Hicks..”, The General finally addressed the both of them, breaking the silence rather sharply for Hicks.

  “I’m glad you two have been keeping yourselves level-headed when around those detainees...especially you Hicks, good work. I expect good things from you in the future in the Fleet, keep it up son. Your Father would have been proud to see you with us.”

  Through the shaking and hyperactivity he has been experiencing for the past half hour, he let a large grin form on his face from the compliment, “Thank-you General.”

  Adams eyed the Lance-Corporal inquisitively, followed up with a nod then to the Captain, “I understand that you two knew each other before either of you joined the service and were good friends, correct?”

  Both of them replied synonymously, “Yessir.”

  The General sighed heavily while leaning on his large cane and shuffling through some papers on his desk, leaving the aura of the room quiet once again except for the sound of multiple papers being sifted through.

  While the elderly Marine officer was going through every inch of his desk, Hicks took the chance to study his surroundings; he was extremely hyperactive at the moment anyways, and he didn’t want to be staring blankly ahead.

  The first thing he noticed off the bat, was that General Adams’ desk was of normal configuration of any standard issued Naval desk. He had been expecting a man with such high of a rank and prestige in the Colonial Marines, to have _some_ sort of decoration or personal style, yet everything he saw in the General’s office was just simply, standard-issued things that the aged Officer required for his job. The bare necessities, if you will.

  The desk General Adams was behind, wasn’t all that different from any regular civilian desk, in fact, it seemed that the styles of the 22nd Century didn’t change all that much, if at all.

  The floor, walls, and ceiling were all of a dull grey color that only increased the anxious state of mind he was in and he wanted out as soon as possible. That meant for this old fart in front of him to hurry the fuck up.

  General Adams suddenly spoke up with a triumphant grunt when he found what he was looking for, holding up the white sheet of paper. Hicks squinted his eyes to try and see what the General was looking at since he could see through the paper with the overhead lighting being casted down upon it and of course, his bifocals.

  Regardless of his enhanced eyesight that his glasses granted him and quite possibly the xeno-xip, he could only make out the vague lettering of a large paragraph at the top of the page and a large seal of some sort at the bottom of it with someone’s large signature. He thought he could make out bold letters at the end of the signature: ‘NASA’, albeit backwards. General Adams set aside the paper to look directly at Standish.

  “Before I get to the main point as to why I only wanted you two here, I want to make something extremely clear to _you_ Captain.”

  Hicks internally screamed at the General’s words and his stomach growled violently, reminding him as to the many hours that he hasn’t eaten. _Oh my fucking Christ bro, just get on with what you want to fucking say, it’s not that fucking hard._

“..if Admiral Jones makes any attempt to give you an order, do _not_ follow it...report to me on what he tried to make you do, clear? He is _not_ in command of _any_ Marines. And I have a feeling he is going to try and do so once your Company hits the dirt down there.”

  Standish maintained his composure and replied quickly with full understanding, “Perfectly sir.”

  The General nodded a few times as if to reassure himself of Standish’s confidant reply.

  “Good, now onto the _real_ business...”, Adams picked back up the fallen piece of important-looking paper in his left hand while he put the full brunt of his weight onto his cane that seemed to shake without end.

  Clearing his throat, Adams cleared his throat noisily then worked up a ugie and spat it out into a nearby trashcan, the large, yellow wad of mucus and other fluids making a resounding ‘SMACK’ once it hit the bottom.

   _Oh that’s fucking gross_.

  Adams cleared his throat again and swallowed before reading from the page in front of him, “I have a request here...well, more of an order than anything, that the Director of NASA himself, took the time to write me the following words, ‘Sir, I have taken an understanding that you will be in charge and providing all security and Marine forces while on the planet of Goldilocks. It is to my knowledge, that it recently became standard procedure that you send in a scouting team of sorts, to make sure the projected landing site is secure and the surrounding areas, before allowing any civilians to go planetside. I would like for you, if it isn’t too much trouble of course, to hold off on doing so and allow a scientific team I have conjured up, to be the first ones down there and allow them to perform their fields of study for at least one week, before you send any Marines to accompany them. Please don’t take offense, but I am afraid that having a team of soldiers carrying weapons openly around my scientists would distract them in their fields of work. Please take this into consideration before sending down your Marines and keep me updated on what your decision will be. Sincerely and respectfully, Wernher F. Braun, NASA Director’.”

  Hicks blinked a few times in aggravation, shifting his feet a little after the General finished what he quoted. Adams set down the paper on top of his ridiculously messy desk before him while staring down at it.

   _So what? What’s so important about that?!_

“Permission to speak General?” Standish interjected suddenly.

   _God damnit…_

  The elderly Marine looked up at the Captain and nodded.

  “You pretty much already told me, when the rest of my Company was present, what you just read to us now. I must be missing something if you’re telling us the _exact_ words of this, Braun chap. And according to you, he sounds gosh-dolly important.”

  Adams nodded again and cleared his throat and to Hicks’ slight disgust, the General spat out another eugie into the nearby trash bin.

  “Yes, he is Captain. And here’s why; him and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. He tends to get himself in a lot of trouble on occasion and I have always been there to help him out during our younger years…”

  The General walked heavily over to the side of the office to gaze at a white holographic screen that had the words: ‘OFFLINE’, on them due to the communications ban.

  “It’s been more than thirty years since I’ve saw, spoke, or even gotten anything from the man…”

  Hicks watched Adams walk back over to his desk and pick up the paper he read from and continued what he had to say with a heavy sigh.

  “And now, I get this handwritten letter from him soon after we came out of hypersleep through a courier..”

  Another silence fell on the three and Hicks was about to explode with impatience.

  “..I didn’t even know he was the... _Director_ of NASA!”, Adams chuckled and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying while still staring at Braun’s name at the bottom of the letter.

   _So fucking what._

Hicks didn’t notice the smallest of tears begin to form in the old man’s eyes, as he returned his attention to the digital clock above the General’s head, the only item that was relatively decorative in this bland office. He saw that from the time he entered this office, up until now, it has been a little over twenty minutes.

   _I’m going to give this some-bitch one fucking minute to finish what he has to say, then I’m gone._

  Adams slowly set the letter down on his desk as if it were the Holy Bible, then nonchalantly brought up his free hand to wipe away the tear that was beginning to form and returned his attention to Standish and Hicks; the Lance-Corporal immediately shifted his gaze away from the clock and looked straight ahead, trying to appear normal. He guessed the General was buying his act, as he continued on.

  “I am entrusting you two and _only_ you two to be his personal guard once your team gets down there. I know he didn’t mention it in the letter, but he _will_ be on a separate dropship with the scientists that your team has been ordered to protect,” Adams began shuffling through some more papers, speaking while doing so and glancing up at the two younger Marines before him here and there.

   _Thirty seconds bro, hurry the fuck up._

  “That’s all I have to say gentlemen. Captain Standish, make sure your entire Company is ready for the deployment within two hours. Have them all in Hanger two-A...”, Adams trailed off before seeming to remember something, “Captain Ferro will be there waiting for you and will be your team’s ride down to the surface, while accompanying the NASA lander. She’ll be bringing you up to speed on what else you need to know. Dismissed Captain. Hicks, stay here.”

  The Englishman saluted, performed a one-eighty turn on his left foot and formally walked out of the office, except for Hicks who still stood at ‘ease’ before the General.

  A few seconds after his CO left the room and the door shut with a quiet ‘whoosh’ and then locked, the General stopped jumbling with the numerous personal effects on his desk.

  When Hicks noticed that General Adams was making his way over to him, he flexed every muscle in his body to appear rigid and steadfast to stifle his shaking and hyperactivity.

   _What the_ fuck _is wrong with me?_

  The old Marine officer stopped in front of Hicks directly and looked straight at his face, scrutinizing every inch of the Lance-Corporal’s facial features with a piercing stare that was making Hicks’ heart beat even more faster than before. He could have sworn that the General could hear his heart pounding beneath his dress blues uniform.

  “Is there something wrong Lance-Corporal?”

  This first question came out abruptly and actually made Hicks flinch from his sudden words.

  Hicks frantically searched his chaotic mind for the right words to answer the General’s question because he could not in fact, remember _why_ he didn’t shave this morning. The Xeno-Zip was definitely taking its toll on his rational thought, and because of giving into Artur’s earlier actions, he was paying the price.

  “I-I-I-uh-dunno ma’am, I mean sir, I, yessir there is.”

  Adams’ stare turned from a hard, inspecting gaze, to one of slight concern, yet still retained some hardness before going on, “I’ll tell you what son, go get yourself checked out by one of the doctors then get yourself squared away with your Company, can you do that for me?”

  He could quite literally feel excitement rapidly building up throughout his body (especially around his joints, making him extremely twitchy) upon hearing these words and bobbed his head up and down quickly while saying, “Aye-aye sir!”

  Hicks practically shouted it out which made the General narrow his eyes and took two steps back with the help of his cane.

  The General raised his hand in front of the young Marine’s face, effectively making Hicks stiffen up about a foot and a half away in clear annoyance.

  “Please calm yourself, and make your way to medical _now_.”

Hicks swallowed hard and flexed his neck to not let it bob away like last time, instead he nodded respectfully, closing his eyes as his head went down then opening them back up as his head returned to its normal position.

  “Yessir, thankyou sir.”

  Hicks saluted and the General returned it. The young Marine did the same thing as his CO did as he left the room, albeit much more quickly because he had been bursting to get out of that dull office of the General’s ever since he arrived.

  But right before Hicks could pass over the threshold of the automatic sliding doors, Adams stopped him.

  “One last thing before you go Hicks.”

  The Lance-Corporal rolled his eyes and internally groaned at this as he stopped on a whim then turned around to face the elder Marine, getting into the stance of attention.

  “Yessir?”

  The General squinted his eyes even more as he made his last request to the young Marine, “Make sure to shave and get yourself properly cleaned up before getting on that dropship..”. Adams made a circular gesture with his hand, indicating Hicks’ whole face.

  “I do not want to _see_...you in your dress blues or any other formal uniform when you know damn well yourself to take care of your body before getting dressed, is that clear Lance-Corporal?”

  Hicks was a bit taken back by this, since he has always heard that this General in command of the 117th was always calm, collected, and nice; but his rank and age contradicted those characteristic traits, which was understandable. The General must have had a lot of stressful things to go through on a daily basis, so Hicks didn’t want to push any buttons.

  “Aye sir, clear sir.”

  Adams seemed satisfied by his answer by nodding and walking laboriously to his desk.

  “Then you are also dismissed, but remember, once you’re down there, keep your cool and do your job. Do _not_ get carried away with sightseeing or daydreaming. It’s going to be tempting when you arrive on a new planet that you haven’t been to before.”

  Hicks puffed out his chest a little, even though the General’s back was to him.

  “I won’t let you down General, take care sir.”

  And with that, the Lance-Corporal turned around, then sprinted out the office and down the brightly lit corridor to the medical bay to see if one of the doctors there could help him before he got sent down for his first deployment.

  Taking into consideration of what the General said about ‘sightseeing’, it was a fairly well known fact that when someone travels someplace that has never been seen before by said individual, he will likely result in becoming curious and having a need to explore and look around. This is incredibly dangerous for soldiers who are being dropped off in a potentially hostile environment, for if they are caught daydreaming or captivated by something, they could and would get killed easily, as their minds were someplace else. Though Hicks was fairly confident that he would fair down there _just fine_.

  

  «§»

 

  One medical check-up and fairly quick treatment later by the head surgeon on the _Houston_ down in sickbay, the Lance-Corporal found himself helping Captain Ferro and her co-pilot of an old, refurbished UD-4L Cheyenne Dropship prepping for flight, along with everyone else in Alpha Company.

  But how that Doctor instantly knew _exactly_ what Arur had practically shoved down his throat upon taking a quick blood test, slightly unnerved the young Marine, especially when the Doc described the pill as ‘Xeno-Zip’ and what the often fatal effects were, so Hicks went along with the treatment more than cheerfully. Besides, he did not want to continue feeling like he had an extreme case of ADHD and end up doing the ridiculous things the doctor said he was capable of doing after ingesting the potent drug.

  Back to the present, Hicks was lying prone in a crawl-space underneath the cockpit of the dropship, feeding tens of thousands of 25mm rounds into the ‘Gargoyle’ gatling gun located on the nose of the warbird; one tracer bullet was painted a bright red for every tenth round that passed the Lance-Corporal’s sight, as to allow the pilot or whoever was firing the gun to clearly see where their bullets were going.

  Amicus had come parading into the hanger out of nowhere right when Hicks walked in to report to Standish and he was now laying on his side; ears relaxed and head on the warm metal while chewing on a mouthful of cashews his master had foolishly left unattended. His bright silver eyes were lazily open and looking at what his human was doing with the ammo belts dutifully.

  The Gargoyle cannon that was mounted on the nose of the Cheyenne gunship was a formidable weapon to either take in awe or fear, preferably the former. Stories from veterans and some active duty guys and even his dad, described that whenever they were in a dicey situation or thought that they were going to be overwhelmed by the enemy, upon hearing the high-pitched whine engines of a Cheyenne gunship, it nearly brought them to tears of relief because about five seconds later, the dropship would unload its heavy payload of the infamous ‘Gargoyle’ cannon, laying down 6,500 rounds a minute. And upon hearing the ‘BRRRRRRRT’ sound that emanated from the gatling gun, the enemy almost instantly, were sent into a panicked state. This allowed the gunship to swoop in while the hostiles were occupied with saving their own skins or getting their senses back (if there were any survivors in the first place) and extract the Marines to safety.

  Hicks has never seen these 25mm gatling guns in action before, but he was well educated on everything that he, as a Colonial Marine would need to know and operate. Now even though he _has_ practiced with firing the massive gun back in basic, he and the other fresh Marines weren’t allowed to fire live rounds during their training. One noteworthy fact to know, is that one of those things, was the fact that the Gargoyles on the old Cheyenne dropships were capable of punching through several dozen yards of steel after a good three seconds of holding down on the trigger. Hicks silently hoped he’d be able to do just that someday.

  Above the noisy clanging of the rather long belts of the huge 25mm rounds, and through the multiple metal platings of the dropship’s belly, he could overhear both Captains barking orders to other members of his squad, including the Navy medics and field surgeons that were assigned to the detail, causing quite the pandemonium all about him; hearing dozens of dull thumps of sleek combat boots hitting metal gratings.

  “I want an extra quarter million 25 millimeter rounds for the Gargoyle cannon in my ship’s cargo hold!”

  “You! Secure those Hellhound missiles!”

  “Each Private will fill up two canisters each of NOR stations and place them in the cargo bay, make sure they, and everything else, are _all_ strapped down tight and have plenty of cushioning in between crates so nothing doesn’t bust! Those NORs will save our lives!”

  “The rest of you, go and get 150 fully stocked field medical kits, 150 MREs, 150 emergency rations, and 50 flares of each kind! Move it like you got a purpose! We only have twenty minutes until dust off!”

  “Captain Standish! Help me do inventory!”

  The Captain’s shouting and other commotions were lessening as everyone was getting preoccupied with whatever task the pilot assigned them to.

  Hicks was almost done with feeding the gatling gun’s ammunition reserves, still in the crawl space beneath the cockpit, so he would have to report to the Captain of the dropship that the ‘Gargoyle’ was maxed out in ammo capacity when he was done, then hopefully they would be able to finally deploy. He didn’t feel like doing anything extra and was hoping he could just sit around and gawk at all the cool gadgets and weaponry in the Cheyenne.

  Now even though that doctor from earlier had removed the Xeno-Zip’s fluids, a tiny trace of it remained in his system, which caused him to be quite anxious, but nowhere near as much as before he got operated on thank the Lord.

  Aside from that, and minding that the small shaft was only two by two feet in height and width, the Lance-Corporal was of a broad, yet slim, athletic build, so he was very snug to say for sure while down there. Although he wasn’t at all claustrophobic due to the tightness all around him, he had to be quite careful about tiring himself out or taking deep breaths, as he would not be able to inhale fully due to the close proximity of the metal plating practically hugging him. Doing so would make him begin to hyperventilate and he would pass out from a lack of oxygen entering his system if he didn’t get out fast enough. But he was doing fine at the moment, he was completely calm and collected, only breathing in short, shallow breaths to accommodate his surroundings, with a small LED (Light-Emitting Diode) flashlight shining where his hands were guiding the ammo belts for the 25mm gun’s reserves.

  Feeling his stomach rumble and contort slightly in hunger, he reached behind himself and slid up the can of cashews to the front of himself that his dog had been sneakily snacking on, as to allow easier access for him to eat from. He had eaten a hearty bowl of beef stew after he was cleared by the head surgeon an hour ago, but was still hungry when he finished the meal. However, he begrudgingly had to report to the hanger that the General told him to go to along with the rest of Alpha Company, so he asked for something filling to eat while on the go from one of the Navy cooks.

  He daintily fished out a single cashew and slipped it into his mouth, chewing it thoroughly before swallowing the fatty contents the single morsel contained. He didn’t notice the significant decrease of quantity in the can, due to Amicus’ hungry antics. Cashews weren’t his favorite thing to eat in the in the world, (or the Universe) but they provided hefty sustenance for the body. So he continued to help himself from the small can of nuts.

  About a minute later, he finished feeding exactly one million 25mm rounds into the dropship’s main gatling gun and detached the automatic feeder mechanism that fed into the gargoyle’s ammunition reserves.

  Looking down to grab another cashew to eat, he noticed the significant decrease of amount of cashews in the can and he instantly felt bad for not feeding Amicus sooner. It must have been almost twelve hours from his dog’s last meal, so he put it on himself to run by the mess hall and get some chow for his puppy before he had to go.

  “Come on boy! Let’s go!”, he told the puppy in that high-pitched cooing voice who was still on his side as he grabbed the loading mechanism, flashlight, and the can of nuts.

  Amicus rolled onto his paws and got onto his four wobbly legs, bushy tail wagging in anticipation whilst staring at his master.

  With everything in his arms, Hicks shifted his whole body to lay on his back in one swift motion and knocked on the metal trap door in his face that divided himself from the cockpit.

  He could hear a brief squeak of someone’s posterior leaving a well, worn-in leather chair above him, followed by a few dull boot steps, then a second later, the hatch was opened by the co-pilot of the dropship and he extended a hand down towards the Lance-Corporal with a friendly nod.

  “Done already Lance-Corporal?”

  Hicks accepted the offering hand, accompanied with a sheepish grin while searching for the co-pilot’s rank on his body in order to properly address the officer.

  As Hicks was hefted out of the crawl space, he gave up with figuring out the officer’s rank and replied dutifully with, “Yessir, all one million. All of it’s completely squared away..”, Hicks trailed off as he glanced behind himself when he heard Amicus whine needfully. The puppy had his front two paws on the metal frame while looking up expectantly at Hicks and even threw a few nervous or curious glances (Hicks couldn’t tell which one) at the co-pilot, tail wagging and all.

  The co-pilot didn’t seem to be phased by those googly-puppy eyes.

  “Okay, go put the feeder back where you found it and report to the Captain.”

  Hicks turned his head back to face the Marine officer and snapped a salute, the co-pilot returned it and walked back to his seat, ducking under the bulkhead as he did.

  The Lance-Corporal swiveled his head, then whole body around to peer down at his puppy which only caused Amicus’ tail to wag more and whine louder when he made eye contact with the canine’s.

  “Get your dog out of here, there’s already some of his hair in here.”

  Hicks’ face contorted into annoyance at the co-pilot’s statement, but didn’t let him see his negative reaction as he knelt down to set aside the ammo loader and can of nuts on the metal flooring to pick up Amicus.

  As the young Marine picked up his things and walked out of the dropship’s cockpit with his Australian Shepherd laying on his left shoulder, the co-pilot stared him down until he exited the cockpit, then he himself got back to finishing up with going over all the flight prep, shaking his head in agitation.

  Amicus began to show his discontent of being held against Hicks’ shoulder by trying to push himself off his master but was held there firmly, but kept trying regardless.

  Hicks crouched before a set of stationary stairs that led down to the cargo compartment of the old dropship while increasing the amount of restraint on his pup, but not too much as to not accidentally crush him. He saw directly below that more Marines from his Company were down there, bustling about to secure all sorts things that would assist them greatly during their deployment. He just hoped that these detainees would just stay away from him, especially Corporal Artur; in fact, ever since the incident in the communal shower room, he mentally had his fingers crossed that the New Yorker would just be dishonorably discharged, but that was just hopeless hoping. He remembered what the General said to all of them back in his office about, ‘All hands on deck’.

  Hicks scoffed and rolled his eyes at the memory as he adjusted his holding position of Amicus so he was in his left arm cradling him, then proceeded to slide down the ladder.

  Once he hit the metal flooring of the compartment section of the ship, he took a few brief moments to look around him and he felt immediately out of place because he was the only one not working and not keeping himself busy with something to help with the drop.

  Out the corner of his eye, he saw Captain Ferro step onto the extended platform with a whole lot of purpose in her step, each footfall making a resounding ‘thump’ under her polished combat boots. She was looking right at Hicks who was still trying to restrain his dog and keep his cool, as his eyes darted from hers, to anything else, not too sure if he should be looking at a _female_ officer in the eye. But he noticed that she had on a neutral face, so he turned to fully face her thinking that everything was going to be alright. For what reason? He did not know. Women confused him, and he often confused himself with his own actions too.

  On a side note, he had to admit, she was quite a striking woman through the rather unflattering typical green jumpsuit of a US Colonial Marine pilot, but he suppressed that thought as quickly as it had come up. He had someone back home waiting for him and God damn him if he even finds himself staring at another lustfully.

  Her presence was easily caught onto by the other Marines as they rose from their various spots, pausing in their work to gawk at her, two even had the audacity to whistle to her as she approached the lone Lance-Corporal steadily.

  The neutral facial features she had on, instantly turned into a deep scowl of indignation as she instantly stopped in her tracks and darted her head from one of the marines who had whistled to the other.

  “You two! Get out of my ship and sprint around the hanger until you throw up! Go!”

  The two men, as well as every other Marine present in the dropship, had their moods changed on a whim at her order. The two Marines groaned aloud and reluctantly got onto their feet as they made their way past the female flight officer, looking up and down her body the whole time while shuffling out of the ship. She crossed her arms over her breasts, clearly not impressed with their actions but stood her ground, staring right back at them with a deep frown painting her face.

  As soon as the two catcallers were clear of the storage bay and off the ramp, the Captain whirled around to resume her stride towards Hicks.

  Before she even stopped in front of the young enlisted Marine, he delivered a stiff salute, clearing his throat as he did. She stopped before him and returned it, then gave him a curt nod, crossing her arms, “Is my canon all squared away Lance-Corporal?”

  Hicks wasn’t sure if he should stand at attention, at ease, or just stand there normally; the pilot wasn’t giving him any incentive to do either-or, so he chose the latter uneasily.

  “Yes ma’am, all one million rounds exactly,” he replied, struggling to keep Amicus from using his chest as a launch pad and craning his neck as far up it would go to stop his puppy from licking his face.

  He noticed the Captain smirk a little, a twinkle in her eye as she observed the cute display before her but she stifled it back to a neutral frown after a second of silent observance.

  “Lance-

  “Capta-

  Speaking and cutting each other off accidentally, Hicks nodded his head to let her know she may speak first. Like _he_ had any authority over a Captain.

  The female Officer blinked, as if to register his action, then nodded in thanks.

  “Follow me Lance-Corporal,” she said flatly, as she turned her back to him and walked down the ramp, raising her arm to make a ‘follow my lead’ gesture.

  Hicks did not hesitate and trailed behind her footsteps, keeping a respectable distance of about a meter behind her while receiving mostly confused looks from his squad mates around him, but he paid them no mind as he kept his eyes locked on the back of the Captain’s head.

  They briskly strode down the Cheyenne’s loading ramp and into the cavernous Hanger.

  Hanger 2A was relatively empty save for the one active dropship, its crew of two (being the Captain and her Co-pilot who was still doing flight checks in the cockpit), and Alpha Company bustling about to get the warbird ready for the drop.

  The whole compartment was about the size of a football field but was only fifty yards in height. Amongst the one active Cheyenne, which was christened ‘ _The Banshee’_ , there were other, more up-to-date Cheyennes tucked safely away in giant chains, cranes, and mechanical arms that were firmly latched onto them all across the ceiling. And numerous APC's (Armored Personnel Carriers) were parked in multiple carports built-into the sides of the hanger, as well as the quartermaster's office and his ridiculously large stock of equipment for different types of deployments for Colonial Marines.

  Hicks stopped himself from bumping into the pilot when she stopped in her tracks a bit too quick for his liking.

  They were in one of the far corners of the hanger, away from the rest of the bustling Company and behind one if the inactive APC’s.

  The Lance-Corporal turned around to look back at the Cheyenne and suddenly had a bad feeling about why he was being isolated from the rest of his unit. He wasn’t spared another moment to wonder what the Captain was going to say to him as she got his attention by clearing her throat.

  “This will be your first drop, yes?”, she asked him, crossing her arms with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

  The young enlisted man nodded his head timidly.

  “Yes ma’am, I’ve never been on-”, Hicks cut himself off for a moment, thinking that she would make fun of him for still being a fresh Marine, or a ‘boot’, “This will be my first tour.”

  The Captain hummed to herself in response to his answer, glancing over his shoulder then back at him. And to his relief, she didn’t seem to give off any negative vibes, just keeping a neutral face on.

  “Okay, have you been in combat before?”, she asked inquisitively.

  “Recently ma’am..”, he almost stammered, doing his best to repress any of those still fresh memories of his first time in combat from bombarding his mind.

  “Any bug hunts?”, came the other question.

  “No ma’am, just..conventional warfare.”

  The Captain sighed heavily and brought up a hand to pinch her nose, closing her eyes in slight aggravation.

  Hicks swallowed a lump that was building in his throat and gave up with trying to supress Amicus from escaping his hold; he quickly crouched down and let his dog leap from his arms, straight onto the hanger’s metal flooring. The young Australian shepherd commenced with scuttling away from his master, directly towards Standish who was going in and out of the gunship, still doing inventory.

  “Alright-”, she began with a low voice; this forced Hicks to lean in with his ear angled towards her to better hear what she was saying, “you’re young Lance-Corporal. You understand this, correct?”

  Hicks averted his eyes to look at the ground and clenched his teeth against each other in self-consciousness, but stood his ground. He could take some personal criticism. He returned his gaze to the Captain, “Yes ma-.”

  She shook her head and put up her hand, fingers pressing together to stop him mid-sentence.

  “Just call me Ferro, please...” she lowered her hand and offered him a comforting smile while folding her arms again and leaned her back against the hanger wall behind her, “...when we’re in private of course.”

  Hicks instantly felt a little uncomfortable where the conversation was about to go, but he opened his mouth to respond in-kind to be polite before he was interrupted by Standish.

  “Hicks! Get your dog clear of the hanger _now!_ ”

  The Lance-Corporal spun around, silently thanking God for wrenching him from the awkward situation with Ferro.

  He saw Amicus running as fast as he possibly could around and around the Cheyenne and prancing through the lines of Marines who were carrying heavy containers to the dropship, who were shouting out a multitude of profanities at the dog.

  Hicks immediately grew worried that one of the former detainees would snap and just snatch up his dog out of anger and was highly embarrassed that his CO had just called him out to get Amicus.

  The young Marine swiveled his head to face the Captain.

  “Sorry ma’am-sorry, Ferro. I gotta go,” he stuttered apologetically.

  She smiled and nodded her head in the direction of the troublesome puppy. Hicks returned the same gesture and made to sprint for his dog.

  “I want you to sit up front with me on the drop Lance-Corporal!”, she shouted after him. He twisted his back to face her while he ran for Amicus; giving her a thumbs up, then turned to fully face where his dog was.

  Hicks scowled under his breath, doing his best to ignore the Marines giving him pissed off looks as they walked adjacent to him into the Cheyenne. He spotted his dog circling the line of guys, attempting to herd them, but the pup stopped in his tracks with small, roundish ears perked up at hearing his Master’s call, “ _Amicus! Get your butt over here_!”, Hicks said with clenched teeth.

  The puppy just stood there unmoving, except for his bushy tail which wagged wildly and twitchy nose.

  When Hicks got within ten yards of his dog, then Amicus swung himself around and bolted away from him.

   _Oh_ no _you don’t little booger!_

  The little shepherd was still only a few months old, so his little legs weren’t able to carry him very far. Hicks turned up his sprinting a notch and within two-in-a-half seconds, he was able to apprehend the puppy, much to the dog’s disappointment in having his fun promptly cut off.

  Amicus tried in vain to escape his master’s grip once again, but he was ultimately unsuccessful when Hicks pressed Amicus’ belly onto his shoulder and held onto him with both hands. He voiced his discomfort by whining dishearteningly and slumped into his master’s grip, accepting defeat. Hicks breathed a sigh of relief in his lone spot in another far, isolated corner from everyone.

  He began walking to the hanger’s entrance to go bring the meddlesome dog to his quarters so that Standish’s family can hold onto him for the time being and get him some proper chow, but stopped when he heard the Captain shout above all the casual conversations and spiteful ones concerning Amicus’ overly hyper actions a few seconds ago.

  “Two minutes until drop! I want everyone to be synchronized and linked with the main computer in my ship!”

  This got the attention of the other Marines, as they quickly finished up their trips from the hanger’s quartermaster who was supplying all the equipment to Alpha Company for the drop.

   _Shit, I’m not gonna have time to bring Amicus back…_

  “Hicks! Why in the hell do you still have your dog in here?! And where’s your fuckin’ rifle and equipment?!”

  The Lance-Corporal saw Standish speed walking towards him, almost the exact same way he was walking to Corporal Artur earlier that morning during the incident in the stargazing compartment.

   _Shit...I’m totally fucked._

  He had completely forgotten to get himself changed into his battle armor before heading down to the hanger to help prep for the drop _and_ grab his pulse rifle from the armory about an hour ago. He only had on his undergarments; which were a pair of dull combat boots, combat cargo pants, and a long-sleeved cotton blouse that hung loosely from his body. His appearance was more like a civilian than that to a Colonial Marine.

  Hicks was at a loss of words when his best friend continued to angrily power walk towards him. When three seconds past in silence, Standish raised his arms and hands out, “Hicks! What the bloody hell are you doing? Where-is-your-e-quip-ment?!”

  The Lance-Corporal just blinked a few times, taken aback at his CO’s shouting, but responded after the berating, “I forgot sir!”

  Standish shot his arms up into the air and rolled his eyes at the same time, sighing exaggeratedly.

  “Fucking hell Hicks! Get your arse strapped in the Cheyenne!”

  Hicks nodded curtly, “Yes sir!”, and jogged past the Captain, towards the large gunship’s open cargo bay, still holding onto Amicus. Standish followed closely with his heavily modified pulse rifle by the upper handle, shouting out orders to other stragglers of Alpha Company to follow him and get in too.

  Less than a minute later, everyone was strapped in tight in a separate area in the UD-4L; Standish was the last one in and after making a head-count of all twenty-five Colonial Marines, including himself, he too finally strapped himself in.

  Hicks had more or less, reluctantly sat up front with Captain Ferro, taking the spot of her co-pilot, who briefly argued against it but eventually let off his argument and went into the troop bay to sit with the Marines.

  Ferro began flipping switches, turning gears, and pressed a few buttons. She firmly grasped a nozzle, but did not turn it as she offered a sidelong glance to Hicks, and when he looked at her, she smiled and winked at him, then turned it to the right until it locked.

  The cargo bay ramp was reeled up by multiple hydraulics, which resounded throughout the ship as a sharp and elongated ‘hisssssss’.

 Turning her attention back to the wide-array of controls before her, she brought both of her hands to rest on two levers and abruptly turned them to the right. The old Cheyenne gunship whirred to life and Hicks could hear the muffled high-pitched whining of the engines from his elevated spot behind Ferro.

  Hicks could see from his spot that her grin grew larger at the gunship’s start-up. Hicks himself couldn’t keep the growing anxious smile off of his face, knowing that he was about to experience his first combat drop. He was _definitely_ going to tell Beretta about this.

  The dropship’s whining increased five-fold, which caused Hicks to reflexively wince and he instantly wished he had on his ear mufflers to deter the extremely loud engines that he assumed were now at full power. Amicus, who was firmly attached to his chest, also didn’t agree with the sound the Cheyenne was making.

  He felt the dropship being suddenly lowered, because he felt a sudden rise in his gut.

_Here we go…_

  Stomach fluids rose into his throat. Belching in his mouth a little, he forced himself to swallow it back down, licking the roof of his mouth then swallowing again multiple times to get rid of the nasty taste and fluttered his eyes to ward off some tears that had formed when it happened.

  Ferro saw what he was going through when she turned to face the Lance-Corporal and her smile increased- a lot, “Here we go Hicks, you’re on an express elevator to hell, going _down_!”

_Please stop smiling at me..._

 

<—I—>

 

**_Must be silent._ **

 

  She forcibly suppressed a would-be hiss that almost escaped her heavily drooling maw that was steadily increasing in quantity. Slowly, she extended her secondary mouth as far it would go, flexing it firmly multiple times. The unnaturally gleaming white teeth that adorned her strangely white and squarish, gooey pharyngeal jaw opened and closed to taste the air that was around her to reassure herself that the large heat signature looming before her was really there.

  Even through the thick, chitinous membrane that completely covered her eyes which concealed them from the exterior world completely, she confirmed that the ever-looming body of heat before her was prey, _fresh and alive_ prey.

 

   **_Hungry._ **

 

  Thick salival fluids emanating from her mouth and face were now three times as much; a steady stream like flow, forming a large spot of drool - black drool that matched the exact color of her chitinous body, right beneath her snout.

  The _patter-patter_ of her saliva slapping at the warm-black, finely ground soil beneath her claws caught the attention of the prey, which closely resembled a cow.

 

**_Caution._ **

 

**** The alien slowly lowered herself to lie flat on the warm ground that soothed and stuck to her tough and considerably slick form, not even disturbing the five-in-a-half foot tall grass that brushed up against her. She knew that the prey had heard her natural bodily functions when it hit the ground, so she made sure to forcibly press her head into the soil, effectively neutralizing the drool that would often slam into the ground, alerting anything nearby. It gave her an annoyed emotion in situations like these, but she had learned a long time ago to tolerate it, lest the prey hear her creeping towards them, waiting for them.

  Preparing to pounce on the fat animal that was darting its eyes around and had its ears perked in her general direction, she ever so slowly bunched up her thighs and arms, much like a cat, and made ready to do the deed. She pressed her heavily segmented tail to lie flat on the mushy-like ground while the incredibly sharp, dagger-like pointed tip twitched ever so slightly in anticipation.

 

   **_Patience._ **

 

  She allowed many more seconds to pass and waited until the prey resumed its grazing, ungracefully biting chunks of grass at their bases.

  It began moving towards her, away from its herd that was also grazing nearby on the same vegetation. She stiffened her body as tightly compact as it would go.

 

   **_Satisfaction._ **

 

  Knowing that the time had come, she let a predatory grin form on her alien lips, smiling knowingly that she would be filled with food for days on end. The smile revealed her main set of shiny white canines and incisors that brightly reflected the incredulous sunlight being cascaded onto them.

  The fat prey was now only a few feet away from the female drone. Her lips parted to their fullest, showing a full set of deathly sharp teeth and a smile that was acutely reminiscent to a human’s; she no longer held in the hiss that had been building up on her maw for the past ten minutes.

 

   **_Die._ **

  


_To Be Continued_ …..

 

 

  


**CREDITS/SOURCES:**

 

  * **Colonial Marines Dropship info:**



**_-_**[ ** _http://avp.wikia.com/wiki/UD-4L_Cheyenne_Dropship_**](http://avp.wikia.com/wiki/UD-4L_Cheyenne_Dropship) ** _,_** **_-_**[ ** _http://alienanthology.wikia.com/wiki/UD-4L_Cheyenne_Dropship_**](http://alienanthology.wikia.com/wiki/UD-4L_Cheyenne_Dropship), and **_Aliens_**

 

  * **Corporal Dwayne Hicks’ History/backstory:**



**_- Aliens_** _and_ ** _Aliens: Bug Hunt; Reclamation_**

 

  * **Organization of the United States Colonial Marine Corps (Rank structure and the likes; assuming that the Colonial Marines in the Aliens universe is organized the same way as the modern day US Marine Corps):**



**_-_ ** [ **_http://www.marines.mil/Portals/59/Publications/MCRP%205-12D.pdf_ ** ](http://www.marines.mil/Portals/59/Publications/MCRP%205-12D.pdf)

 

  * **Polaris Star System info:**



**_-_ ** [ **_http://earthsky.org/brightest-stars/polaris-the-present-day-north-star_ ** ](http://earthsky.org/brightest-stars/polaris-the-present-day-north-star)

 

  * **Story cover art:**



**_-_ ** [ **_http://coeykuhn.tumblr.com/_ ** ](http://coeykuhn.tumblr.com/)

 

  * **Xeno-Zip:**



   _-_ **_Aliens: Genocide, Aliens: Harvest, Aliens: Rogue (Mentioned only), Aliens: Music of the Spears, Aliens: Colonial Marines (comic series, mentioned only),_ ** and  **_Aliens: Cargo (comic series, mentioned only)_ **

 

  * **Xenomorph behavior/thought processes/intelligence:**



\-  **_Alien, Alien: The Archive-The Ultimate Guide to the Classic Movies, Alien: The Official Movie Novelization, Alien 3, Alien 3: The Official Movie Novelization, Alien: The Weyland-Yutani Report, AVP, AVP: Requiem,_ ** and  **_Aliens: Bug Hunt_ **

 

  * **Xenomorph biology:**



**-**[ ** _http://aliens.wikia.com/wiki/Xenomorph_**](http://aliens.wikia.com/wiki/Xenomorph) and ** _Aliens: Labyrinth_**

  
  
  



	2. TAKE NOTICE

**IMPORTANT NOTICE:** **  
** **_Friday, November 2nd, 2018_ ** **_  
  
_ **

**Okay** , so I’ve been getting many DM’s and comments from people who are asking when the next update is happening.  Well obviously they haven’t taken the time to go to my profile bio to see what I’ve put in there, so I’m going to have to reiterate it into this update notice:   
  I am no longer going to upload chapters for any of my stories nor upload any possible new ones. This is because I want to focus on writing one story at a time and when said story is completed, then I will upload that fic in all of its finished glory onto here and move on to the next uncompleted story.   
  Now obviously, this is going to take a very long time and I probably won’t post anything story-wise for at least one year.   
  And for those of you who are interested in my personal life since my last update, I will disclose what information I am willing to give out:   
  I was discharged from the US Marines a couple of days before I even shipped out for boot camp back in July of this year. This is because I had to go to court in another state for something I did nearly six years ago.  And when I got back from resolving it, I had to show my recruiters the court documents and they had to turn me down immediately.   
  I spent literally - this is no exaggeration - all of my life dreaming and preparing to become a Marine; to earn the EGA (Eagle, Globe, & Anchor).  And in what I did back then, which lasted only ten minutes, it unknowingly screwed me over for the rest of my life.   
  However, I couldn’t let this get me down forever, so after maybe two months or three, of feeling sorry for myself and letting myself go physically off-and-on, I decided to see if maybe the other branches of the Military would be more mercifical/slacked in their recruiting standards.   
  I went to speak with the Navy recruiter and I straight up told him and showed him my court documents of what happened, so I wouldn’t be beating around the bush in any way.  The good news is, is that he didn’t turn me down upon reading what I did, so there’s hope for me yet.   
  I’m currently getting signature references from my peers at this moment, then I will return to this recruiter and he will give those reference sheets to the top recruiting brass. I really hope that the Navy will accept me, but if not? Then I’ll try out for the other branches.   
  I know some people are going to ask what it was that I did and depending on who you are, I will most likely decline in disclosing said information. What I did was easily the worst thing I’ve ever done in my whole life and I don’t talk about that mistake lightly.   
  Okay I’m done here.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well! Tell me what y’all think! Now even though I have a solid foundation for where I want this story to go and what’s going to happen (I ain’t deviating from it, don’t get me wrong) I would still like to receive suggestions and even requests from all y’all who enjoyed reading this Pilot. (I think that’s the correct term to use for the first installment of a story?)  
> Anyways, as promised, I will be working on the art for this story, however, it is going to be a while, since I am practicing with drawing Xenomorphs until I am content with my work.  
> Now I ain’t the Author to give all y’all bullshit excuses as to why I am taking a long-ass time on my projects, so I ain’t even going to waste none of y’alls time with it, just know that I won’t ever abandon my work and I am always working hard on it, literally everyday.  
> I will now begin writing chapter three for my District 9 Fanfiction, so for those of y’all who haven’t gotten into it yet, make sure to read that one too if you please! :D  
> On a side note, I am fixing to ship off for the United States Marine Corps, Boot Camp at San Diego, Camp Pendleton, California very soon, so you all will not be hearing back from me for at least five months. This will be due to boot camp lasting roughly thirteen weeks (if I don’t get sick/injured). I will then be sent home for ten days of furlough (that’s not enough time to write a full chapter unfortunately) then I will go to basic training for my designated MOS (Military Occupational Specialty/Military job) which I hope will be an 0811 (Field Artillery Cannoneer) if not, I will willingly heed to whatever the Corps’ needs are.  
> In conclusion, I am happy to announce that I will be making this fanfiction into a legitimate ebook once completed on here; with every chapter containing at least two of my own grayscale drawings. All my art will be posted on my deviantart account once completed.  
> This is TehFriendlyXeno, signing off.


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